


A haven to hold both our hearts

by meinposhbastard



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternative Universe - Human, Bartender!Nick, Happy Ending, Hurt!Sam, Hurt/Comfort, I'll probably add more tags as the story develops, I'm spoiling too much here, Light Angst, Lucifer as Nick, M/M, Past Sexual Abuse, a lot of staring going on, but really there's more fluff going on here, but there's a character I haven't mentioned up there, cook!Anna, jealous!Sam, past emotional/psychological abuse, past self-harming, so I'll be appeased by that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 20:36:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 44,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3742741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meinposhbastard/pseuds/meinposhbastard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's running. He's running as fast as his burning muscles can carry him. He's not going back. Oh no. He'd rather him be ran over by a truck or tore apart by rabid dogs than going back to... <em>him.</em></p><p>What he finds behind the neon blue, brassy letters "Open", saves him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This is where it all begins.

**Author's Note:**

> The Non-Con warning happens in the later chapters (NOT between Nick and Sam)... and I didn't get into too much details there, but I deemed it right to warn you beforehand of what you should expect from this.

\----

Part I

\----

 

He couldn't say how many miles he managed to put between him and that place. He couldn't say if he'd find a soul amid all this obscurity and flora, before his legs gave out on him and his lungs spontaneously combusted.

He caught glimpses of the dark, looming shadows around him at intervals between his fear and adrenaline clouding his mind and his eyes recording the world around him; felt the wet, tall grass mercilessly grasping his legs and trying to hold him back; breathed the crisp, fresh air unpolluted by any agents if not those of mother nature herself.

Yes. He was pretty sure it was a forest he was fighting his way through.

It was too dark for him to see anything clearly. He couldn't actually afford to stop and take stock of his surroundings, when the only thoughts his mind was processing at the moment were _run_ and  _faraway_. 

He didn't put enough miles, hours and uneven ground between him and that place. He wasn’t going to stop until he'd deem himself safe, and from the look of it, he still got a long way to go to get there. Maybe he wouldn't ever feel safe, no matter how good he'd hide himself. But that was something he sternly prohibited himself to dwell on.

Because then and there, he caught the sight of something flashy a couple of yards in front of him. His burning feet found renewed energy and he sprinted towards that beacon of light, heart beating wildly behind his rib cage, because hope never tasted so good in his entire life.

He didn't pay attention to his surroundings, already changed from deep forest to outskirts of a city. Behind the two story building he was heading towards, on a well-lit street, the horizon was painted in yellow and orange dots. Even the cloudy sky absorbed the colour, giving it an unhealthy look.

His eyes caught the "Open" sign above his head, but his mind wasn't able to process more than door, haven, hide, _quickly_.

He stopped barely two steps inside, door closing at his back with a loud _snap_ , breathing like he just finished a running marathon. Not that there was any lie in that statement.

The part of his mind that was still pretty much running on adrenaline, kicked his legs into motion, seeing as he wouldn't be of any good without some incentive, and he found himself sitting on one of the many high stools lined up in front of the bar.

Bar. Yes. He stumbled into a bar, but by the looks of it, it was either too early for it to be opened or it was just about to be closed. He hoped for the former, because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to walk back out on that door and into the humid, crispy air of the night.

His legs wouldn’t be high on cooperating, of that he was awfully sure. Already his muscles were burning, which meant that he was on the run for more than twenty minutes. He knew his limits.

He startled when something touched his forearm, leaning away from the countertop he's been resting his arms on. When he looked up he jolted again, but this time internally. The sum of what his eyes took in was: dimmed blue eyes, a shock of dirty blond hair, strong, stubbly jaw, a button down, olive shirt covering a faded green one and strong, muscled arms, flexing as the hands were cleaning a glass. He also looked older than Sam. Much older.

But his brain decided to keep stock of the first statement. Even with the dirty, artificial light around, he could still make out the sharpness of those eyes. On a sunny day they would surely be intense and vivid. A colour that could easily punch the breath out of men who got on his bad side.

"Hi," he croaked, recalling that his brother taught him some resemblance of manners a couple of eons ago.

The guy's mouth twitched briefly, before the corner of his eyes crinkled ever so slightly.

"Hello, stranger." His deep, smooth voice surprised Sam; he hadn't expected it to remind him of that one time he got the chance to taste Grant’s 25 Year Old Whisky at a friend’s party; he could still recall the rich spices that lingered enthrallingly on his tongue. 

But then again he hadn't expected any of this.

In his narrow, terrified corner of mind, he thought he wouldn't be able to get this far from... him. He thought he'd be caught as soon as he set foot outside the house. But this -- this exceeded by far his expectations. Still, staring unabashedly at the stranger was not in the cards, even if he wasn't bad-looking at all. He averted his eyes, falling on the multitude of bottles behind the bartender. Whiskey, scotch, gin, vodka and other kinds he couldn't place in his mind. Mostly because he's never seen them.

"I'm sorry, but we're about to close," the bartender said as he set the glass down among others of its kind (the clinking sound of glass on glass was a major give away).

There was an apology in the other man's expression, as if he'd gladly help, but he had to abide by the rules. Also, those deep bags underneath his eyes didn't look like the result of many good nights sleep.

"Ah... um... do you mind if..." Now he was stalling; he really, really didn't want to go outside. If he could stay in here forever, that wouldn't be a problem with him -- at all. "Just a few more minutes, please!" he pleaded, recalling he had some pretty strong puppy eyes in his arsenal of facial expression when in need.

The bartender regarded him quietly, assessing him as if he was torn between kicking him out and letting him stay, but then his eyes fell on his hands.

"You're bleeding," he stated as if he was just saying that tonight it was going to rain.

Sam's eyes travelled down to where the bartender’s stopped. It was true. His hand was coated in dark red blood. He brought it a few inches in the air, palm up to search for the wound, just as he recalled the feeling of the heavy lamp his hand curled around and the satisfaction when it collided with his head. _That_ satisfaction.

It brought about a shudder in his body.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry," he apologized, almost jumping off the stool when he realized he was bleeding onto the nicely polished wooden countertop.

"Let me take care of it," the bartender offered, catching Sam's wrist before the young man could put too much distance between them; he bended down a little and produced a first aid kit, which he placed next to their arms.

Seeing as the man didn't seem to be letting him go any time soon, he settled down and looked at the bartender as he opened up the kit and took the necessary tools to clean and patch a wound.

"Do you have violent patrons?" Sam couldn't help but ask while the bartender started to clean his hand with tender care and concentration. The man looked up from the wound, peering curiously at him. Sam shrugged. “It’s just… you have a first aid kit at hand and you’re pretty deft with wounds. It seemed the most likely option.”

"Once in a while," the bartender said, lips curling minutely around a smirk. "It's always the new ones that start the fight. The regulars are already familiar with the 'no violence' policy." Sam's hand was not so numb as to not feel the cold fingers whenever they touched him. "I found threatening to give them just piss poor vodka or whisky is a damn good incentive to make them stay put."

Sam snorted a small laugh and the bartender's eyes snapped up to meet his. It was so intense, the likes of which made Sam break the contact shortly after, especially when he could see a mirroring smile in the other man's expression, albeit not so unrestrained as Sam's.

"So," the man started, his nimble fingers bandaging Sam's hand, "what brings you to this part of town?"

Sam visibly tensed, and the man’s eyes returned on him.

"It... it's complicated," Sam muttered, looking sideways at nothing in particular.

They lapsed into a strained silence after that, but the bartender broke it not long after. "I'm Nick, by the way.” He extended a hand.

Sam stared at it, surprised by the friendly gesture, and then up at the man. He blinked a couple of times and then slowly, almost reluctantly, he took the offered hand into his uninjured one.

The grasp was strong and steady and his palm was cold compared to his fingers. Sam found himself adjusting his hold to match him. You could learn a lot of things from the way someone grasped your hand.

"Sam."

A small smile curled around Nick's mouth, making his eyes seem more luminous than before.

"Nice to meet you, Sam." He pronounced the words as if he agreed to take part in a joke and he was amused by it. "Would you like something to drink?" Apparently, the closing time just got extended by a couple of minutes.

"Um... no, thank you. I don't have--"

"It's on the house," Nick interrupted him, already placing two glasses and pouring what looked like whisky into them. His lips curled into that semi-smile he seemed to have going on, and raised one of the glass as he pushed the other towards Sam.

"It's rare that I indulge after closing time, but this seems like a special occasion." He winked. _Winked_.

Sam was taken aback by the gesture, but he snapped out of it in record time and took his drink. "To what do we toast?" he found himself asking, meeting Nick’s strong gaze head on.

The man seemed to mull this over, brow dipped in concentration. "To new encounters!" He pushed his glass towards Sam, waiting for the man in question to meet him halfway.

Sam chuckled. "To kind bartenders!" He clinked their glasses, before both downed their drinks in one go.

They were silent for a couple of minutes more, Nick refilling their shots, but this time Sam just sipped from it. Getting drunk was not an advised option, when he'd soon be forced to run.

"Is there something wrong?" Nick asked, and Sam looked up at him in surprise.

"No, nothing," he lied, but the bartender lifted an unimpressed eyebrow.

"You sure? Because you've been eying that door ever since you sat down as if any minute now a grizzly is going to tear it open and drag you out."

Sam swallowed. He didn't think Nick knew how close to the truth his words were. He smiled what he hoped was a I-find-your-joke-funny-but-no-that’s-not-what’s-eating-me smile. Where, of course, ‘eating me’ was a metaphor.

"No, nothing like that." He stood up, cradling his freshly bandaged hand at his chest. "Thank you for," he looked down at the aforementioned hand, "this and the drink." He didn't wait for Nick to say something, just dragged his aching legs towards the doom that awaited him behind the door.

"Hey," Nick said suddenly and Sam, for whatever reasons, stopped dead in his tracks; only three steps and he'd be at the door. He didn't turn. "Sam, wait. Do you have a place to crash?" he asked and Sam turned around so fast his vision wobbled a bit; damn it, he shouldn't have drank the second glass. He's always been a lightweight.

"What makes you ask that?" He wasn’t sure why he felt so defensive all of a sudden, but it might have something to do with the fact that he was still wired to run and not stay in one place for too long.

A small smile graced Nick's lips, eyes crinkling at the edges. "Well, no offence, but you... look like you've been rolling in dirt all the way here."

Sam looked down at his garments and sure enough, they were beyond recognition. He remembered his jeans were a faded blue. Now they were a dark brown, torn in multiple places. Not to comment on the state of his flannel button down and t-shirt.

"Um... I'm... a long way from home," he said, looking dismayed by his appearance.

Nick nodded to himself, as if he expected so much. "You can crash here, if you want," he offered and something on Sam's face must have changed, because he hastily put up his hands and continued, "I have a spare bedroom I haven't used in a long time. There's no pressure here, just... it's a long way into the city. And no taxis come around here at two in the morning."

Sam stared at him for a long time, trying to process what this stranger was offering him. He was reluctant in accepting, because he didn't know him and usually strangers always asked for something in return for their 'kindness'. That was just how life worked.

"Um..."

"Look," Nick sighed, resting his hands on the edge of the counter. "I'm offering you a safe place to spend the night. No strings attached. You can go on your way tomorrow morning, just... I wouldn't sleep well if I knew a young, kind man is out and about on the street in the middle of the night, when I could offer him a bed to crash on."

Nick looked pretty honest to Sam. But then, again, he’s been proven that his reading people skills were rusty at best and downright absent at worse. Still, even if his pride was still flaring and arguing to refuse the offer, Sam was also aware that out there someone was more than probably searching for him. Out there he might not encounter a safe haven like this once again. He might not meet another bartender like Nick.

He sighed. For now, the best he could think of was to swallow down his pride and take whatever he was being offered.

"Okay."

 

\----

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written as an only chapter and it's already finished, but since it's 30k long (and counting, 'cause I'm not even half way finished with the proof reading), I decided to break it into chapters. I'm the first to feel grateful when a work doesn't have huge chapters and leaves me the possibility to choose the 'entire work' mode, if it's finished. So I'm gonna extend the same possibility to you :)
> 
> P.S. It's also easier for me when I have a final read-through before posting each chapter :)
> 
> P.P.S. This and the next chapter's title is a quote from David Nicholls' book "One Day".


	2. It stars here, today.

\----

Part II

\----

 

He jolted awake from a fretful sleep, eyes blinking open to take in unfamiliar furniture. This was not the pale blue room he remembered as his prison from that... hateful place. It took him a bit to push back the unwanted memories and recall that he stumbled into a bar late last night. He also remembered chatting with a friendly and kind bartender. Nick.

That's right. He was in Nick's spare bedroom above the bar. Shuffling out of bed, he went to the bare window, looking out on an empty street. He winced as he absentmindedly flexed the injured hand. Looking down at it, he had a half-mind to take off the gauze and press into the wound. Surely the jolt of pain would counter the feeling of worthlessness that the nightmare brought about, the crawling under his skin that made him feel dirty and used; so much intensity behind those feelings, it was hard not to give into.

He needed that kind of pain, but rationally he knew that wasn’t true. Not anymore.

Looking up, over the dark grey buildings on the opposite side of the street, the sun was barely peeking on the horizon. Not much sleep he got there, but his mind wasn’t in its comfort zone just yet. His instincts were still on high alert and fear made his muscles ache.

He passed his uninjured hand over his face, wiping out more of his sleep. His eyes stung from the not-quite-dark-not-quite-bright morning light that was spilling into his room and, obviously, from the few hours he slept. He wasn’t completely awake; he'd need a cup of black coffee to do the trick.

Still, the remaining tendrils of the unpleasant dreams he's been plagued by made him feel uncharacteristically uneasy, on edge. The urge to just break into a run and never look back was overwhelming.

His stomach protested such a harsh decision, although Sam was more inclined to blame it on the hunger that was upsetting it. He hadn't ate since yesterday at lunch. Thinking about what he had done, he wondered from where had he found the necessary energy to perform that vile (he was sure that it was more commonly called self-defence) act and then run hell only knew how many miles. Certainly the dull ache in his legs told him of a fairly long distance.

Floorboards creaked somewhere at his back and the faint click of a door opening and closing brought Sam's attention towards his bedroom's door. The walls up here were pretty thin, if he could pick up on these noises.

He frowned when words carried out to him. Nick's voice.

"... is she okay?... no, of course it won't be a problem.... Yes. Yes. Okay." Dull, rhythmic steps told Sam that Nick reached the stairs and was descending them. "Call me if there's a change -- anything. I'll pick up..."

His voice faded away as he presumably reached the ground floor. Sam sighed. Leaving aside the fact that he was increasingly curious about who 'she' was, which was _none of his business_ , he should really get going. Now that he was awake, he'd hardly fall asleep again so soon. Better to get out of Nick's hair.

He pulled on his dirty clothes: button down plaid shirt; light, brown jacket; torn, muddied jeans and boots he managed to snatch in his haste to put as much distance between him and that place as possible. He smelled of earth and sweat, but he wasn’t about to ask for a shower, when the guy already showed him enough mercy by letting him crash there.

Ushering out a fortifying sigh, he opened the door and made his way downstairs.

Nick wasn't behind the bar as he expected, instead some clattering noises travelled all the way to him from behind two wooden doors to his left. Brow creasing in curiosity, he went to see what was all the commotion about.

He stopped barely a step inside what looked like a kitchen. Nick was on the other side of the room, opening cabinets and putting pans aside. His movements were short and brutal, as if he was taking out his frustration on the inanimate objects.

Sam was about to say something to announce his presence, but just then Nick turned around and almost dropped the glass bowl he was holding, eyes wide in shock. But just as quickly he regained his composure and with an almost comic delicacy he placed the bowl on the countertop in front of him.

"Sam," he said, a hint of irritation in his voice that quickly faded away, "you almost made me buy another glass bowl."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." Sam smiled apologetically, and Nick responded with a twitch of his own lips.

Nick fluttered a hand dismissively, rounding the countertop and coming to stand a few steps in front of Sam. "I thought you were asleep," he said contemplatively, before his expression changed minutely as something dawned on him. "I hope it wasn't me that woke you up, because if that's the case, then I--"

"No.” Sam shook his head, smiling amiably. “I was already up when you got out of your room."

Nick frowned slightly, studying Sam as if he was debating if he was lying to him or not. Sam found himself shifting from foot to foot, unusually self-conscious under the scrutiny. Then Nick’s gaze fell on his clothes and the frown deepened.

"You weren't thinking about sneaking out this early in the morning without saying a word, were you?" Nick asked, suspicion creeping into his voice.

Sam actually flushed at the implication of his words, because somewhere deep down that was what he initially intended to do. The fact that Nick woke up just as early (by the bags under his eyes, he didn't have a restful night either), was a good opportunity to demonstrate to himself that he hadn't actually been raised by wolves.

"No, no," he denied hastily, and soon he found a multitude of words pouring out of his mouth with no restraint. "I didn't mean to walk out just like that, it's just that it wasn't one of my best nights... but it's not your bed. It was actually very comfortable and I didn't sleep alone in a while so it was refreshing.”

Something about the phrasing of that last sentence had Nick narrowing his eyes minutely, but he tucked the raising questions for later.

“I did want to warn you I was leaving, but it's so early and I thought... I don't even know what I thought, honestly,” a nervous chuckle, “and then I heard you walking down the hallway and I thought this is a good opportunity..." he trailed off as Nick raised a hand to stop him.

It was really for the best. He wasn't sure his mouth wouldn't continue spilling things he had no intention of telling this strange, although kind, man. It just wasn't like Sam to vomit his guts to someone. Nobody is really pleased to have so much burden and trash shoulder with you, even if they love you very much.

He sighed. That verbal diarrhea eased some of his worries. He took it as therapeutically good, but he wasn’t so sure he'd have an encore any time soon. He was still not prepared to be swamped by memories he took great pains to suppress and then be emotionally drained.

"Good," Nick said, unaware of Sam's thoughts, "because you're not allowed to leave before eating breakfast," he stated seriously.

"What?" Sam was beyond befuddled. Wasn't he just a passer by? A stranger? Someone Nick should be happy getting rid of?

"House rules." His voice brook no argument as he turned towards the ovens.

"No. No, you don't have to--" But he was interrupted by a loud noise (in the relative silence of the kitchen, it was damn loud), that suspiciously sounded like his stomach putting in it's two cents.

Nick looked over his shoulder at Sam, smirking. "Two against one. I win," he declared entirely too pleased with himself.

Sam stared at him, not sure if he was dreaming or this was really happening. He sagged against the wall, silently giving up on protesting the kindness Nick was offering him. It was a bit too much for him. He's been going for such a long time without it, that having it offered so freely and wholly, made him weak in the knees.

Before long, he found himself seated at one of the tables that littered around the spacious floor, eating scrambled eggs and fried bacon. He realized he's forgotten his manners back with that pack of wolves he absolutely didn't grow up with, when he caught the amused smirk on Nick's lips. Cast in the soft light filtering through the half pulled curtains at their right, he looked younger -- mischievous even.

Sam swallowed the food in his mouth and straightened slowly, putting the fork on the edge of the plate.

"I'm sorry, I don't usually eat like this, is just..."

"No," Nick interrupted him again, the smirk gaining more wats if nothing else. "Don't apologize. It's okay. It's been awhile since someone ate something I cooked and made it look like the most delicious meal they've ever had."

Sam looked down at his almost finished breakfast. "It is," he said. "It's the most delicious breakfast I've had in a while." He smiled. "I take it you don't cook often?" Sam asked, feeling the need to steer the conversation towards something else.

"No, I don't," Nick replied slowly, still watching Sam with a glint in his eyes; it was a bit unnerving, honestly, but he also found it was a detail that added nicely to this man's charm. And no, he totally did not just call another man _charming_.

"Usually,” Nick continued, “it's Anna who takes care of the cooking. She rather likes tinkering with the food. She says it entertains her, but I know she just loves cooking." A fond smile bled into the smirk, appeasing the playful glint in his eyes with something resembling very much -- love.

"Oh," Sam whispered softly, his train of thought suddenly swerving on less joyous paths.

He glanced down at his meal and debated if he was going to finish up or decide that the turn of conversation served as the cherry on top for declaring his stomach full.

"Is something wrong?" Nick's concerned voice carried into his muddled emotions and he snapped out of it.

"What? No, no, nothing's wrong." He smiled shakily and looked back down at his eggs. "I think it's best if I get going." The cherry on top it was, then.

He stood up, Nick following suit.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" the older man asked as they made their way towards the front door. Sam was eying the door not unlike a couple of hours before: doom and brimstone awaited him behind it.

"What?" He shook himself out of his mind again. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll be fine."

But Nick caught his wrist before Sam was able to touch the handle.

 _Warm_ , was the first word that cleared away all the others. Warm and just the right side of _calloused_. Fingers not too slender, but neither too chubby. Just the perfect height and width to enclose around his wrist in a comfortable loop.

He looked back at the bartender and found concern in his eyes. A lot of it. He frowned.

"Do you have a place to sleep?"

"I..." he started, but stopped shortly when the concern turned out to be so damn earnest, like a boy afraid to let his first dog sleep in his doghouse; not that Sam had any canine resemblance, but maybe the puppy eyes he so brazenly made use of a couple of hours before was a dead give away.

"I... don't have," he confessed slowly, finding he was unable to lie to Nick. "But I'll find a way." He smiled, thinking it was enough to reassure the man that he'd be fine, even if that little voice in his head told him that he most definitely wouldn't be fine. But semantics, right?

Still, Nick didn't let go of his wrist. The place was warmer than usual, what with their combined body temperatures, and Sam had the urge to just entwine their fingers together and see what happened. Only the thought was quickly kicked and binned down in the depths of his mind, never to see the light of his glorious conscience ever again.

"It's..." Nick frowned, frustration taking over his concerned expression; he seemed to be debating something with himself, eyes fixing a point somewhere to Sam's left. "You don't seem to be a junkie or involved with bad people," there, Sam should argue, but Nick didn't look like he'd hear him if he said something in edgewise, so he let him continue, "and Anna is nagging me for some time to find a help around, especially during weekends, but I never got around to do it. You know, being on the outskirts of the city is not actually an ideal place to work if you're living in the heart of the city, so..." he trailed off, looking up at Sam.

Sam, for his part, didn't see where Nick was heading with all that reasoning. He knew he was trying to get to a point, but he wasn’t sure what kind.

Nick sighed, reading the befuddlement on Sam's face. "What I'm trying to say, is that I can offer you a place to sleep at the end of the day and a job. The pay is not much, and you'll have to work from seven in the afternoon 'til two or three in the morning, depending on how the flow is--"

"I'll do it."

Hold on. What?! Since when did his mouth run ahead of his brain during sobriety? It was one thing when he was drunk or even tipsy, but it was another matter entirely when he was clear headed and in possession of all his faculties.

Nick looked as surprised by his answer as Sam was.

"Are you sure?"

Sam gingerly passed his free, injured hand through his hair, releasing a disbelieving laugh.

"Y-yeah. Yeah, I'm sure. I'd like to help," he said, lips curving up into a brilliant smile. Huh, he thought those were long gone. Maybe miracles were not so obsolete as he convinced himself to be. "Though I'm not sure what I'll be doing."

A disarming, genuine smile adorned Nick's lips and Sam's breath hitched a little at the sight. It still fell into the ‘not charming at all’ category, okay?

"A bit of everything, though for a couple of days you'll have to man the kitchen, until Anna returns," he explained, tapping his chin in a contemplative manner. “Can you cook?”

“Ugh, yes, but it’s been awhile since I last cooked a meal,” he confessed sheepishly.

"Don't worry, we don't make complicated dishes. If they're well-cooked, nobody will comment. We have a standard menu we serve, but otherwise you're free to go wild." He smiled impishly.

Sam chuckled. He felt so at ease in Nick's presence, as if the guy had the power to right all the wrongs in the world with a blink of an eye, which was good as second impressions went. A sense of safety and relief pervaded him as he looked at the bartender. If they wouldn’t go so far as to become good friends, at least Sam was sure that they would be able to cohabit and maintain a decent relationship.

"Um, you can let go of my wrist now," Sam said, realizing they were still in a strange semblance of holding hands. "I promise I won't high tail it into the sunset," he joked, but Nick just stared at their joined hands with an unreadable expression.

After a moment or two, he let go. "I highly doubt that'd be possible now," Nick commented, turning towards the kitchen. "The sun's barely up," he added, looking back over his shoulder at Sam with a cocky smile and winked.

It might have been possible that Sam's legs sprouted roots, which made their way between the cracks in the floorboards just to keep him from moving, because he's never experienced this strong level of being rooted to the spot.

"Coming?" Nick called before disappearing into the kitchen and magically his limbs reported full cooperation back to his brain.

As if his stomach's betrayal wasn't enough. Damn his traitorous body.

 

\----


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yessss, I'm a lazy little shit. But finally! Here it is, freshly proof-read! XD

 

\---

_The heart has no sense of humor._

_It offers itself piteously like a pair of handcuffs,_

_And is so clumsy that we turn away._

\---

 

Nick spent the whole day showing Sam where everything was around the ground floor, including the storage room right beneath the stairs that led to the upper floor. He also made sure he got fresh clothes on. The ones on him went straight into his washing machine while Sam took a shower.

He was surprised to have found garments that fitted the long-limbed man at all in his wardrobe, because he was damn sure he would have had trouble with the length.

As it was, Nick’s three years old (and really, who keeps clothes for this long in their closet?) pair of faded denim were a bit loose around his hips, but at least they covered his ankles when Sam placed them over his legs to see if they were long enough.

“Did you dress me up in your clothes just to have me dirty them when I’ll prepare lunch?” Sam asked, part amused, part embarrassed that he had to borrow two pairs of socks and underwear on top of it from a man he barely knew. “I must warn you, though, I usually make a mess when I cook.”

Nick was half buried into his closet in search of a burgundy v-neck he recalled he still possessed, but hadn’t wore for quite a long time. When he successfully brought the shirt in question to light, a childish triumphant look flashing on his face, his brain stuttered to a sudden halt.

It wasn’t that he was seeing something new, but he was sure he didn’t yet fully comprehend the fact that he had a half-naked, well-toned young man in the middle of his room. If he had any doubts about his non-existent heterosexuality, by now they would have been completely extinct.

Seriously. What kind of mess had he blindly kicked himself into -- again?

Sam was subtly shifting from foot to foot, unnerved by Nick’s intense stare.

He blinked and everything returned to its gorgeous-free self -- for just a fraction of a second. He really ought to keep himself in check. This was not the reason why he offered Sam a job and a place to sleep at the end of the day -- whatever his treacherous libido was telling him. This was the kind of offer that had no strings attached, period.

“I think this size will fit,” Nick said, forcibly bringing himself in the here and now. He was older than Sam; older and more experienced. Plus, he wasn’t a fan of one night stands. Not anymore.

Sam smiled and nodded, before taking that burgundy shirt and pulling it over his head. A flannel shirt went over it shortly after; the only item that had been a present and Nick still kept around, even if that wasn’t his style.

But it was Gabriel’s signature to always give presents that people would throw into the bin the first chance they got.

Once Sam was fully dressed, Nick sort of forced the young man (staring intensely at someone will never not work) to let him change his gauze.

“It’s okay, Nick,” Sam said, but he still extended his hand for the older man to inspect. “It’s almost healed.”

It was true, Nick found out as he finished unwrapping the bandage. The wound stopped bleeding, a thin line of dried blood slashing Sam’s palm almost diagonally.

“Is it the right time to ask about it?” Nick asked instead, glancing briefly up to have Sam avert his eyes. Sam’s fingers twitched in his hands, but Nick continued bandaging it without a hitch. “Not a good time, then,” he concluded, no judgement in his tone whatsoever.

“I’m sorry.” Sam met his eyes and they were pained, as if he would share with him, but he couldn’t just yet.

“It’s fine,” Nick reassured him, cradling Sam’s hand into his, because he finished patching up the wound. “You’ll tell me when you’ll be ready. I’ll be here.”

“Thank you.” The bob of his Adam apple caught Nick’s attention as the young man swallowed, but he blinked and released Sam’s hand, smiling kindly at him. He took the first aid kit and the towel back to the bathroom, deeming the conversation closed.

Everybody had demons lurking in their closets. _Demons_ , not skeletons. They made quite the difference, Nick knew it because he’s never been the exception to the rule. Any rule, for that matter. But reminiscing never did him any good in the past, and it surely wouldn’t start now so dumped the towel in the dirty clothes chest and returned to his bedroom -- to where his present offered respite and peace.

After Sam put his boots on, they headed downstairs where Sam had to prepare all the dishes from the menu, which amounted to five. He found them quite easy to make, if Nick gauged Sam’s happy mood right. It took him a bit to find where everything was, but soon he moved around with ease, dumping ingredients into the pan and frying them. There were a few dishes that didn’t need frying and the knife rhythmically hitting the wood slab almost lulled Nick into zoning out.

Almost.

He was like a shadow there, eagle eyes never leaving Sam. The occasional sway of his hips did attract his attention, but he never lingered on it for too long nor did he comment on it. Not when Sam seemed to really be into what he was doing, as if nothing else mattered but the dish he was making. That kind of single-minded focus was admirable.

When Sam finally finished, he platted their lunch on two big trays and turned around. He almost jumped out of his skin when he found Nick one step away from him. He actually hadn’t moved much from where he’s been from the beginning. Just a step to his left, keeping to the edge of the kitchen island.

“You gave me a fright!” Sam blew some air, glancing up at Nick.

“Consider it payback for earlier.” He winked, mouth twitching in amusement.

Sam huffed good-naturedly. “Lunch is ready.”

“And the table awaits for us,” Nick said with a flourish of his hand, which made Sam chuckled. He helped him carry the trays to their respective table.

Nick caught the wince on Sam’s face as he put their lunch down, but he didn’t comment on it. It was true that presentation played a big role in a meal, but for now Nick was more interested in the taste.

He didn’t need to look up at the young man to know that he was stared at for any hint that Nick was displeased with what they were eating, but what Sam had yet to learn about him was that he was damn good at keeping a poker face.

“How much cooking did you do before?” Nick asked as he took a bite. He glanced at Sam when the silence stretched on for too long.

“Ah, um… I used to cook for me and my brother in the past.” He looked down at his plate, fiddling with his lunch. “It didn’t happen often, which is why I didn’t have much practice.”

Nick hummed noncommittally, tucking the small piece of information among other observations and questions regarding his new help. "You're a bit rusty and the presentation could do with some improvement, but I’m confident you’ll get better in no time."

Sam beamed at those words, an infectious smile Nick couldn’t not return.

Sam could do this.

\---

He most probably couldn’t do this.

The bar opened and patrons filled in quickly, and even if at first he could handle the orders just fine, taking care to make them as aesthetically pleasing as he could, he soon found himself swarmed in orders and not enough time to make the food and put them into plates. Luckily, he wasn't the type of person to let himself easily be overtaken by stress and he kept a cool, level head throughout all of the ordeal.

Each time Nick came in his heart sank a little bit more, knowing that he had another order -- or five to make. The only consolation he took was that Nick never went out empty handed. Sam made sure to have at least two dinners ready to go.

Ten o'clock came and went without Sam noticing and he found himself sighing in relief as the orders ebbed away slowly. When half an hour passed and Nick didn't once come in, Sam knew that dinner time was over. In the meantime, he busied himself with cleaning all the dirty dishes and the rest of the kitchen.

"You've been amazing, Sam," Nick complimented him. When Sam turned around, he was resting against the kitchen island, much like earlier that day, hands crossed over his chest and the smirk Sam came to associate as pleased firm in place.

"Thank you," he accepted the compliment, smiling. He couldn’t deny that having his hard work recognized did create an amazing undercurrent of pleasure underneath his skin. The warmth in his chest spread all over his body, making the tips of his fingers buzz.

"I must say, even Anna sometimes has problems keeping the hungry customers sated. For it being your first time, you've exceeded every expectation I could have had of you. And it's only Friday. You'll have to endure this hectic rhythm for two more nights before Anna comes back."

Sam was drowned in so much praise he honestly had no idea what to do with. The blush creeping up his face wasn't of much help. He managed to smile and thank Nick for the kind words, because really, it was the least he could do to repay his kindness.

But Nick was staring again at him, blue eyes a darker shade of color in the artificial light, and it was that kind of staring that made even the most confident person feel self-conscious. It was penetrating, though not in an invasive way; there was more curiosity Sam could see in his eyes than anything else.

Sam cleared his throat awkwardly, desperate to get out of Nick's line of sight as soon as possible. He wasn't quite used to be the centre of someone else's attention. Unnerving covered only half of how Sam was going through. He felt positively naked under Nick’s scrutiny, and no amount of clothing could have deterred that gaze from reaching within his soul.

"Um, do you need help out there?" he asked, making and breaking the eye contact continuously.

Nick didn't answer right away, content with just torturing Sam for a little while more. He was developing a hell of a strange hobby, Sam was sure.

"If you've finished here... there are a couple of empty tables I wasn't able to clear away."

"Sure thing," Sam agreed quickly, already moving towards the kitchen doors.

He thought he'd be able to escape that intense gaze if they were busy with other people, but Sam couldn't, for the life of him, shrug off the nagging feeling that someone was staring at him, burning holes into his head.

And sure enough, whenever he turned his head he would meet Nick's gaze without fail, the man seemingly unashamed that he was caught staring by Sam every time. He didn't even make a half-hearted attempt at breaking the eye contact, instead keeping it until Sam looked away, having emptied his reserves of stubbornness in the face of such high level of resilience.

Well. That, he would have never expected. He was told by more than one person that he was as stubborn as a mule, but when Nick was involved those statements sounded like such lies he constantly wondered if he weren't really too lenient.

Two o'clock in the morning saw Sam closing the bar with a tired, but satisfied sigh.

"Tired?" Nick asked as he counted the money they made that day.

Sam shuffled closer to the bar, without taking a seat just yet. "Yeah. But it's a good kind of tired," he confessed with a pleased smile.

Nick paused, looking up at Sam with a question in his eyes, but he resumed counting shortly after, deeming the question too invasive.

"Do you need help with anything else?" Sam asked as Nick put away the money and wrote something down in a big register.

"No," he said absentmindedly, brow dipped in concentration; Sam chose to wait in silence for Nick to finish up so that he could revolve his full attention towards the young man once again.

Somewhere, in some dark corner of his mind, he craved that kind of attention. He craved it so much so that when someone inadvertently granted it to him, he found himself reverted into a beggar, so pathetic and needy. For now, Sam had a good handle on that craving. He could control it, could mask it into something else -- patience.

Finally, Nick closed the register and graced Sam with his intense gaze, blue eyes catching the light above the bar and trapping it inside. At least that was what Sam would swear it looked like.

"You handled everything that should have been handled, Sam." That was no good. His name was starting to sound different spoken by Nick. It definitely didn't bode well. "I usually take up to an hour to put everything into its right place since I don't like to leave things unfinished."

"What about... Anna?" Sam asked, the name somehow feeling odd on his tongue; it might have been because he didn't know this person at all, apart from her name and her job title.

"Anna's shift finishes at midnight on the weekend and at eleven during the week, so I'm the only one left to close up."

Sam caught himself before his mouth uttered something foolish, again. It happened twice. The third time was definitely not the lucky one. Still, it sounded so lonely. From what he could gather during the day, Nick owned the place and lived alone.

It wasn’t much information, but it was enough to conclude that Nick was a lonely person. Whether he liked it or he'd been forced by unfortunate circumstances to live like this, Sam had no idea. Fact was, however he looked at it, Nick wasn't very happy with his current situation.

Dark circles like those under Nick's eyes didn't happen to people who were content with their life and slept peacefully at night. Even if the man suffered from insomnia, Sam would still be worried. If he recalled correctly, insomnia derived from stress and angst.

It made something catch in his chest. Something cold and rough. He tampered down the urge to get more physical than a friendly pat on the shoulder with him. It was difficult to resist it, but he managed. Barely.

"Okay, then." Sam forcibly snapped himself out of his thoughts. "I'm gonna head upstairs."

Nick offered him a tired, but genuine little smile. "Go ahead. I'll do the same in a bit," he gestured down towards the bureaucracy he still had to take care of. "Good night, Sam."

Sam swallowed around the lump in his throat. He swore the guy did it on purpose, pitching his voice so low and wishing him good night as if he was going to join him in his bed and do dirty things with that mouth of his.

Once again: no, he did not just dip his foot into the ocean of unresolved sexual tension he seemed to be suffering from. It’s only been a day, for crying out loud! Things didn't usually lose their brakes when handsome, older men were involved. That is, unless you were looking for a quick lay. Entirely _not_ Sam’s case.

"Good night," he muttered, walking as casually as he could until he was out of Nick’s line of sight.

God, but he was going to hell. And _fast_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the poem those lines at the beginning are from:
> 
> Man shaped out of mud  
> And made to speak and love—  
> Let’s stick in him a little whisperer,
> 
> A bucket with two holes.  
> Let’s give him the Great Deceiver,  
> A blood-stone.
> 
> A church with a vaulted ceiling  
> Where the White and Blue Niles meet.  
> A dog who cries after dark.
> 
> Everyone has a heart,  
> Even the people who don’t.  
> It floats up like a beached whale in the autopsy.
> 
> The heart has no sense of humor.  
> It offers itself piteously like a pair of handcuffs,  
> And is so clumsy that we turn away.
> 
> The past  
> Is a quarryful of marble statues  
> With heads and genitals erased,
> 
> But the heart is a muscle made of sharkbone and mutters,  
> Resting place softened with hay  
> Where all the cows come home, finally.
> 
> Anatomy -- Monica Ferrell


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day. Yesss, why not? XD

\---

 _I took exactly_   
_what was not mine,_   
_with my eyes._

\---

 

The weekend passed in such a blur that when Sam shuffled into the kitchen at half past six on Monday afternoon, he almost had a heart attack at the sight of a red headed woman puttering about. He honestly had no idea who she was or what she was even doing there, but before he had the chance to turn around and ask Nick about it, she spotted him.

For a few seconds she only studied him, taking in all of his height and then some, before a slow, amused smile crept on her lips.

"You must be Sam, the new guy Nick hired last week," she said.

Sam did a double take of her, trying to remember something he obviously forgot; something that was vital for this situation. He wasn’t sure what made him realize, but there was only one person, female, who Nick had spoken of in the past days (albeit sporadically).

"You're Anna... right?"

The smile grew into a toothy grin; something between devilish and amused. "Will you look at that? Nicky actually talked about me to someone!" She chuckled, a clear sound. "I only hope he didn't call me names."

"What? No, no." Sam jumped to placate any misunderstandings. "He didn't actually talk that much about you, but he did say you were in charge of the kitchen."

"Damn right I am," she said, a proud slant to her features as she tilted her chin up; Sam found it kind of hilarious, seeing as she was so petite. It made her look like a puppy trotting around with an air of royalty around her.

"Wait," Sam said, frowning. "Isn't today Sunday? Weren't you suppose to come back on Monday?"

Anna laughed, because really, the kid was just too adorable for his own good. "No, to the first question, yes, to the second." She grinned.

Before Sam had time to respond, Nick's upper body appeared between the wooden doors, scoffing at Anna.

"Will you stop chatting up my help like an old hag and start preparing the meals?" At this, Anna stuck her tongue out  in a veritable display of a five year old. "We have ten minutes until we open." Nick only narrowed his eyes at her, but didn't take up the challenge of seeing who was the less mature one between the two of them.

Sam watched the exchange from somewhere on the left, head darting in both direction like the spectator he was. It reminded him of all the jokes and teasing he and his brother had going on in the past, but he forced himself to return to the present when he sensed that he was being pulled down by memories that shouldn’t have felt so bitter.

"Do you need any help?" Sam remembered to asks, because that was the whole reason he's been hired to do. And because that wasn’t the time to revive certain past memories that made his heart ache with guilt and longing.

Nick's gaze slid towards Sam slowly, almost elegantly. When they made eye contact, an electric shiver travelled up his spine. He barely managed to suppress the physical display, for the intensity of it was that hard to hide. Nick studied him for a while. Not much, but enough to make the sudden silence feel awkward. That is, if Anna felt the same as him, though he didn't dare look away.

"No," Nick finally said, words slow and calculated. "For now you can help Anna. I'll call you if I need a hand."

Sam nodded, forgetting to use his vocal chords, but the guy was looking directly at him. It wasn’t like he'd miss it. Nick didn't mirror his nod, disappearing behind the doors without another word. A small sigh escaped Sam’s lips, before mentally composing himself and turning towards Anna to--

"Is something wrong?" he asked, honestly surprised by the narrowed look and amused little smirk he was receiving from Anna.

"Oh, no. Nothing," she sing songed, turning her back at Sam as she took several ingredients from the fridge. "Everything's just the perfect shade of fine." She didn't see the perplexed look Sam was giving her.

Playing the part of a waiter during rush hour (even if the rush hour on Monday didn't even come close to the ones he's had to pull through during the weekend) was a tough job. Especially when one had never had a job as a waiter. Nick took most of the orders and delivered them to Anna, and Sam had a couple to deliver himself too.

But that was not what bugged the young man at all.

What really hindered Sam in doing his job at the best of his abilities, was the fact that he didn't know how to carry out more than two plates, one in each hand. That was a skill he'd very much like to learn so that he wouldn't be forced to make so many trips back and forth.

Anna seemed to pick up on his frustration, because when she handed him a plate to take, she held onto it.

"What's bothering you, Sam?" she asked, serious concern etched into her beautiful features. "Did any of those drunkers do something to you? Because if so, I'll have some serious words with Nick. He's supposed to protect--"

"What? No, no, nothing like that," Sam stopped her righteous anger from taking any more space on her face, the plate still held up by both their hands. "It's just--" He sighed. "It's frustrating and a bit humiliating to be able to carry only two dishes at a time. It's true I've never worked as a waiter, but it'd make my life so much easier if I could take four at once."

"Ah," Anna said, all the clouds dissipating from her expression. "I can teach you that little trick all right."

"You can?" he asked, not even caring how hopeful he sounded; that sweet smile she was giving him was such a sight for sore eyes.

"Mhm, but not tonight." She released the plate and turned to the oven. "Jo's expecting me home. We'll start tomorrow. I'll come at five o'clock, maybe even treat ourselves to some tea in the meantime," she said, amusement trickling into her voice, "if someone actually _bothered_ to buy tea bags!" She yelled the last statement, clearly intended for Nick, although Sam was doubtful it reached his ears, what with all the noise going on up front.

\---

"No, place the first one between your thumb and index finger, like this. Then spread your fingers a bit, yeah like that, okay, now slide in the second plate, taking care to support it with your unused fingers. Yeah, you're doing great, Sam!" Anna praised once she made sure that Sam had a good grasp on the porcelain plates.

She made good on her promise and came in an hour earlier just to teach him the trick every waiter who took their job seriously knew about. It was a bit difficult at the beginning, because he had to take care to keep them balanced and evenly spread. They were only two empty plates, but he imagined that with food they'd be heavier and he'll have to pay extra care.

He wanted to do this right. No half measures.

"This is called "butterflying" the dishes, because if you look at them it kind of resembles the wings of a butterfly," Anna explained, then positioned a third plate on Sam's forearm, to his worry. "Steady, Sam," she said, hands slowly retreating, in case Sam lost the balance. "Now try walking towards the bar," she told him, taking a step to the side to clear the path.

He looked up, mentally calculating how many steps he'll have to make, when his attention was swiftly caught by Nick. He had already been behind the bar, preparing drinks, repositioning bottles, taking out the empty ones and so on, and Sam hadn't paid him much attention. Not when Anna had a way of commandeering his entire attention. In a way, it reminded Sam of Nick, although she used her voice to hold his attention, whereas Nick only had to catch his eye and he was lost.

Like right now.

"Um..." he said eloquently, recalling the five steps he counted before laying eyes on Nick. "I don't..."

"Oh, yes you do," she interrupted him, amused smirk failing to capture Sam's attention back; Nick proved once again to be a powerful focal point. “Go on, give it a try,” Anna encouraged.

Swallowing around the lump that got stuck in his throat (not that Nick's steady gaze was helping his situation much), he took the first step, eyes automatically darting down to his left arm where the three plates were still safely in one piece, thank whoever was listening. But he was only one step down.

Sucking in a deep breath, he steeled himself for the remaining four, gaze darting between the plates and Nick. When he successfully reached the bar, Nick allowed a small smile to curve his lips up, and Sam was responding in kind when Anna’s hand fell on his left shoulder unannounced.

"Well done, Wonder Boy," she praised once again just as Sam jumped, startled, and lost the grip on the plates.

Nick quickly thrusted his hands forward to catch them should any decide to push their luck. Fortunately, Sam's arm was two inches above the wooden countertop, so they only clattered for a bit before settling down.

She chuckled at the sight of Nick hovering over the counter, wide eyes only on Sam. She didn't comment on it, even if it started to become more and more obvious that the new hired help held more of Nick's attention than anyone ever had.

"You can go ahead and continue with these little trips until you're confident you won't trip over yourself," she told Sam good-naturedly. "Nick, follow me."

"Don't order me around," he muttered, but complied nonetheless, disappearing into the kitchen.

Sam was still unused with their antics, but each day he managed to shrug more and more off. Theirs was the kind of relationship he could only describe as cats and dogs, but they seemed to love each other underneath all those biting comments and names.

Really love each other.

\---

"Will you tell me what's going on between you two?" Anna crossed her arms on her chest, but her expression remained opened, when the doors to the kitchen closed behind them.

Nick leaned against the wall beside the wooden doors, taking on his nonchalant persona, even if his eyes were sharply focused on his cook. "What makes you think there's something going on?"

"Because I see how you look at him. Heck, this is my second day back since you hired him, and I've already picked up on the eyefucking."

Nick smirked. "Eyefucking? Is that how you call it nowadays?"

"Yeah, it is you old, decrepit man," she grumbled, but there was too much fondness in her voice for the words to really cut. "Are you serious?"

"I'm always serious."

Anna rolled her eyes. "About him, dumbass."

"I never even said I was interested."

"You can lie to yourself all you want, but I have solid proof that you are. Interested."

Nick didn't answer, his face carved from stone. Anna sighed.

She never got straight answer from him when confronted. Here, she couldn't help but see the similarities between him and Gabriel. No wonder they were either thick as thieves or fighting like cats and dogs -- and not in the good way.

She took a step forward, breaching his personal space. "This is serious, isn't it?" she asked, eyes filled with concern. "You were never this obvious to me when you found someone attractive. None of your past lays brought forward that much intensity, and no, I'm not interested in how many people you bedded, but when we did get out together I couldn't help but notice. After all, you're my favorite cousin."

A mirthless smirk graced Nick's lips. "Careful what you say. You know my brothers don't take kindly to competition."

"Don't change the subject, smartass!" She slapped his chest in mock anger and Nick chuckled lightly.

"Look, there's nothing going on between us," he said, placing his hands on her shoulders, in a way that was meant to give her reassurance; but he used the same tactic a couple of times in the past to mask a lie, so she wasn’t so sure she trusted this gesture for what it wanted to be. "So don't stress over who I take to bed or not."

She punched him again, this time with more force. "Gross, old man! I don't need that image in my brain. It'll haunt me forever!" She grimaced as Nick chuckled at her expenses.

She shuffled closer, burying her face into his chest and Nick hugged her tightly, kissing her crown of red hair in a rare display of affection.

"I really want to see you happy, you know?" she muttered, sounding like a grumpy kid.

"I know."

"You're too old to play 'how many times did I get laid this week'." Nick chuckled again, rough rumbles beneath his ribcage. She pinched one of his hips, eliciting a surprised noise from her cousin. She grinned, satisfied. A sigh melted her more into his arms. "You know that I love you to the end of earth and that I take care of you as best as I can."

"Yes, mom, I know," he joked, but this time Anna didn't take the bait.

"But you need someone in your life who's there only for you, who makes you smile stupidly every time you wake up and they're on the other side of your bed, who makes you be maudlin and unable to help the cheesy lines and clishès, who makes you do foolish things and you're completely okay with it, because you love them so much it would be like tearing one of you limbs apart if they were to leave you." Her voice broke at the end and she sucked in a shaky breath, Nick's arms tightening protectively around her.

He had one or two jokes poised on his tongue, but he didn't let any out. He didn't even open his mouth. He just let himself be enveloped in her cousin's warmth, her voice, the sweet apple pie life she imagined for him, and couldn't help but feel something in his chest swell with love and fondness for the little skimp in his arms.

"You know that you find that kind of happily ever after only in stories, right?" he said softly.

She leaned away, an indignant look on her face when she looked up at him. She had unshed tears crowding up at the base of her eyes. He'd like to brush them off, but they have yet to fall and Anna wouldn't take kindly if he made her acknowledge the fact that she was secretly a sap.

"That's not true," she argued. "If you really want that kind of life, you can have it. You just have to desire it strongly enough and fight for it like you’ve never fought in your entire life."

Nick smiled indulgently at her, at the fire that burned wildly and righteously in her eyes, much like a parent would towards their kid when they were confronted with life’s many injustices.

"It takes two to make a relationship work," he reminded her quietly.

In a certain way, the truth he spoke jabbed painfully at his chest as soon as he realized what he actually meant.

"Argh, you're damn stubborn when you're not supposed to be." She punched him again in frustration, but Nick only gathered her back into his arms and kissed her forehead, closing his eyes.

But when he opened them again, they landed on Sam, who was looking at him from the other side of the small, round window in the door. He blushed furiously when he realized he's been caught staring and quickly scuttled away.

Nick remained like that, lips still pressed against Anna's forehead, contemplating what he saw for a brief moment in Sam's eyes, before the boy ran away. It was something familiar, yet strange at the same time. As if it shouldn't have been on Sam's face.

"Did you fall asleep on me, old man?" Anna asked, leaning back to peer up at him.

The smile he gave her was only present in his eyes and they untangled.

"I'll go open the bar." He moved towards the doors, ignoring her jibe.

"Yeah, you do that," she agreed, her back at him, obviously trying to recompose herself.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the poem: 
> 
> Reanimated, spirit restored,  
> reincorporated, body restored,  
> I contemplate between dreams  
> the scene I’ve stolen  
> like the one who took fire,  
> like the one who opened the devil box  
> out of curiosity,  
> like the one who saw her equal  
> and her life’s love  
> were the same and so effortlessly  
> brought them together.  
> I took exactly  
> what was not mine,  
> with my eyes.  
> I saw the sea inside you:  
> on your surface, mud.  
> I kissed you like a shipwreck,  
> like one who insufflates the word.  
> With my lips I traveled  
> that entire continent,  
> Adam, from dirt, Nothing.  
> I knew myself in your substance,  
> grounded there,  
> emitting aromatic fumes,  
> an amatory banquet of ashes.
> 
> Fons -- Pura López-Colomé


	5. So much of what we live goes on inside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poem: "Unsaid" by Dana Gioia.

\---- 

_So much of what we live goes on inside–_

_The diaries of grief, the tongue-tied aches_

_Of unacknowledged love are no less real_

_For having passed unsaid. What we conceal_

_Is always more than what we dare confide._

_Think of the letters that we write our dead._  

\----

 

They didn’t speak about what transpired between them there. Nick didn’t mention the look Sam had on his face, although it sat heavily at the back of his mind and began to be the main reason he couldn’t sleep more than an hour or two at night. His insomnia was getting worse.

And Sam behaved as if nothing happened. One of the main reasons his frustration anted up a notch, unbeknownst to him.

\---

Soon enough, Sam mastered the skill to carry more than one dish on one hand and within the second week, he danced around the tables like a pro, unloading plates here and there. Most of the regulars took a liking to the new boy Nick hired and by the third week they started engaging him in friendly banter and jokes.

Sam liked it. Nick could see it on his face and body language. He was more open, more carefree; more alive and confident in himself. It was a nice concoction of qualities Nick liked the display of. It wasn’t so much because Sam kept the patrons happy and created a friendly environment for the newcomers, but because this was a nice and good change from the man Nick hired.

Now he laughed wholeheartedly when the jokes were actually funny, a hearty, full body laughter Nick couldn’t help but soak the sight and sound of. It filled the bar with warmth and life and all the good things Nick hadn’t been able to infuse in the local no matter how many decoration tricks he looked up on the internet to give the space a lived-in, comfortable air.

It only took Sam’s dimpled smiles each time he greet a new patron to bring up that kind of feeling. And boy, did those smiles make Nick’s hands twitch if they weren’t otherwise busy.

Sam was kind, that much Nick dug up from their first meeting, and he never shied away from giving it to whoever needed it. He helped those who got too drunk to stand by themselves, always asking for Nick’s cell phone to call a taxi. Nick had been surprised when someone actually did answer, because with him it never worked, at least not at two in the morning.

But after the second week in a row since Sam took to call a cab for the patrons who couldn’t go home on their own, he ended up in a sort of a grey zone between acquaintance and friend with one taxi driver named Benny.

“Yeah, same address,” Sam spoke into the phone as Nick dried up a tumbler. “Thanks, Benny. You’re a lifesaver.”

He turned around and placed the phone on the counter, near Nick and then went to wake up one of the last two patrons left behind.

In this, he proved to be efficient and a quick learner. He managed to gauge each person’s mood of the moment and tiptoe his way around them. Even when the patrons proved to be unreasonable or plain rude, he maintained an easy smile and an open attitude. He was a man of talents, and each night Nick found out a little bit more about him.

But Sam never stepped outside. He half carried the patrons to the doorstep and Benny would come up and meet him, taking the man from Sam and guiding him into the car, but Sam never went further than the threshold. Not once since he stumbled inside the bar.

Nick found it suspicious, but he never asked. Something told him it was too personal, and they weren’t at that level of confidence just yet. Unfortunately, the questions became more persistent each time Sam asked for Benny’s help when he reached the front door. The man (who had a Southern drawl and easy smiles) never once questioned or complained about it to Sam, and seemed happy to comply.

Not to think about that time, barely three days since Anna and Sam met, when Anna came in loaded with five or six big, nondescript, white bags. All of which were handed to an embarrassed Sam as he thanked her profusely. He never once looked up at Nick and Anna was more tight lipped than a corpse when he casually asked about it.

Her only answer was, “ask Sam if you’re that curious.”

There were obviously some details Nick was missing, either intentionally or not, but he never asked. It was that which he was doing wrong, he knew. But he never pried in other people’s business. Not unless they opened up to him on their own volition. It was a principle by which he abided religiously. Even if religious he most definitely was not.

Still, the questions and possible scenarios tormented him at night when he had nothing else to distract him, and something resembling stress grew in him as each day passed.

Anna obviously picked up on this. Heck, even Sam threw him worried glances every now and then. It didn't take to have eagle eyes to see that something was seriously wrong with Nick. Every time he caught his reflection into the mirror, he looked more and more like a ghost than a human being. Even his usual easy-going, chatty persona lost its touch over the weeks, getting distracted more often than not.

Anna cornered him more than once, telling him to take a day or three off and rest, but he brushed her off. She tried lessening his workload through Sam, but he lashed at her (cursing himself for doing so, but he was already out of the kitchen by that point). The third time, she flat out told him that he needed to get laid as soon as possible, because he couldn't continue like that; it was affecting the customers. Nick had snorted. As if a quick lay would resolve his problems. He knew it wouldn't put to rest his mind.

She might have been right in the past that an occasional orgasm would be the necessary short circuit his brain needed to reboot itself, but deep down he knew it wouldn't be enough. Heck, it would leave him feeling more hollow and sick than if he were to drink himself to sleep.

Which, he might add, he stopped relying on alcohol as an easy ticket into oblivion a long time ago. Having one's cousin threaten you to ditch your inebriated body into a dump next time they find you blind drunk, had a major say in his decision to never abuse alcohol. That and the fat tears and terror in her eyes. He nurtured a brotherly love towards the little bossy shit and he hoped she knew that.

\---

 

But things were spiralling out of control for Nick. And fast.

  ****

\---

A month later, just after Anna stormed out of the bar as soon as her shift finished, because they've butted heads for the third time that week, Sam cornered him.

Well, not in the true sense of the word.

He was actually seated on a bar stool, a few inches to Nick's left as he struggled to put an order to the blurring numbers. Funny, last he checked, it was water he drank from that bottle; unless Evian tried their hand at mixing water and alcohol. Highly unlikely, since they'd be buried under a lawsuit until their fourth generation.

"Nick. Nick!" He heard Sam calling him, but only when his biceps encountered something warm did he realize he was about to fall. Looking up, he was greeted by a worried Sam, who stopped him from befriending the floor in a rather violent and ugly way. What was it that he said?

"Nick, are you alright?" He finally caught what Sam’s pretty lips were shaping out. He didn't answer, though, instead he groaned and brought the hand that wasn't supporting his body on the lower counter up to his face to scrub away the dizziness. It obviously didn't go away.

Instead, he was cradled into Sam's arm as he guided him away from the bar. He wanted to protest, and maybe he did blabber as much, but they didn't stop until the sight of his queen sized bed came into view.

"Ugh, why am I in my room?" he asked as Sam manhandled him to sit on the bed and then he bent down to unlace Nick’s boots.

"Because you need to sleep. You've been zoning out pretty much all night," Sam said as he pulled off the last boot and placed it beside the other one under the bed.

"I know. I can't help it. I haven’t slept much lately," Nick confessed, still scrubbing his face with one hand. It was easier to deal with reality when his eyes were closed. At least nothing wobbled around.

"Why?" Sam asked softly as he helped him take off his shirt and then jeans, leaving him only in his undershirt and boxers. He didn't spare one thought on the situation he was in, because it felt so right, Sam taking care of him.

"I always had problems sleeping," he confessed quietly, Sam pushing him gently to lay on his pillow, comforter pulled over his chest. He cracked open one eye to make sure Sam was still there. He was.

"But?" Sam prodded, still half kneeling besides the bed.

"It never was this... drastic. I don't remember the last time I slept more than two hours in a row." He was still peering down at Sam from between his eyelashes, so he saw the moment his hardened expression melted into concern and warmth.

Nick closed his eyes, forcing the lump in his throat down by swallowing drily. He didn’t have the necessary energy to deal with that right now. He was too weak to stop any temper tantrum his emotions might dump on him.

But Sam was there and he was worried about him. He found it hard, but he clung to the tiredness in his bones like a dying man desperate for one last breath and then another and another...

"What calms you down?" Sam asked.

A twitch. "Sleeping pills."

Sam snorted, as if he expected that much, but then relented. "If you have any, I could--"

"No, it's fine," he dismissed. "They stopped having any effect on me a long time ago."

They lapsed into silence. The air prickled with an unusual tenseness and when Nick cracked an eye open, a twitching six feet of gorgeous man looked like he was silently debating something.

It surprised Nick when Sam took a seat on the edge of the bed, besides him.

"Um," he began eloquently, "when I was little, I used to get nightmares periodically after mom died in the fire." He took a deep breath, as if the mention of his mother was still painful; for everything Nick knew, it was. He didn't interrupt Sam. "And my brother used to ran his hand through my hair to calm me down. It worked every time." A pause, this time Sam was looking down at Nick with a question in his eyes; Nick wasn't sure what he was asking, and it must have been showing. "Can I... ?" He moved his hand towards Nick's hand, stopping almost above his face and Nick understood what Sam wanted.

He took a moment or two to think this through, but his brain was running low on sleep and he was left to listen to his instincts. All of which agreed unanimously. The promise of physical contact, even as platonic as what Sam offered, did wonders to completely unravel Nick’s tight control over his more emotional side. So he nodded slowly and Sam continued his journey.

The first stroke was tentative and light. The next ones didn't feel particularly different, and when he looked up at Sam he was frowning in confusion as he couldn't get the right angle.

"Maybe we should change positions?" Nick suggested.

Sam's hand froze mid stroke and locked eyes with Nick. It was too dark to make out the color of Sam’s eyes, but the light from the street spilled inside enough to see the expressions on the other's face.

"Okay," he agreed. "Which one's the most comfortable for you?"

Nick mentally went through the many position they could perform right now, half of which were swiftly discarded as too ingenious or too -- physical. Sam was offering comfort and a possible doorway towards the much needed sleep his body and brain were craving for some time now, not sex.

Finally, he settled for the most practical and comfortable one that didn't cross any lines. But maybe lying in bed with the reason for his insomnia was already crossing a fair bit of lines.

He scooted towards the centre of the bed and settled on his side, motioning for Sam to take up the space he left behind. Sam didn't hesitate for long and leaned against the wooden headboard, one leg on the bed, the other bent beside it. Nick repositioned himself so most of his head was close to Sam's hand, forehead pressed against his thigh, and the younger man began his slow and soothing caressing.

Now he did feel a difference. It was a simple motion, something that he did himself when he was frustrated or his hair was unruly, but it certainly did not feel the same. He melted into his touch, muscles relaxing gradually. His eyes drifted shut of their own accord.

At some point, his head travelled on Sam's thigh, one hand resting innocently on his knee, but Nick was already asleep and had no control over any of his natural instincts to seek warmth and comfort from another human being.

 

 


	6. I want... a steady hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote: Shana Abe.

\----

 

_I want…a steady hand. A kind soul._

 

\----

Part I

 

Anna sniggered into her mug of tea as Nick apologized to Sam for the fifth time in the past ten minutes. It got to the point where ridiculous didn’t even cover their situation, but six feet and then some of gangly, exaggerated long limbs were hard to dodge when his system was scrambling around to put itself into motion. Seriously, how many hours of sleep had he ingurgitated? He was a walking zombie.

Leaning up on the tip of his toes, he opened the cupboard where he kept his coffee and he peered at the alien ‘Darjeeling’ word his eyes fell upon. What did that even mean? And since when did his brand of coffee changed its name?

“Where the fuck’s my coffee?” he grumbled, glaring at the burgundy box with heat. At least he could always count on his anger even half-dead on his feet as he was. “And what’s this _Darjleen_ thing doing in my cupboard?”

A long arm reached above his head and pulled out the familiar green container of his coffee.

“Um, you bought the box of tea a couple of days ago,” Sam chirped helpfully besides him.

 _Oh_.

He actually did. Two of them, if his fuzzy memory served him right. Something he's never done no matter how much Anna nagged him before. It took a drop of the word in one of their morning conversations over brunch to have pushed him to buy them on his weekly trip to the supermarket.

“Right,” Nick mumbled as he took the container and went to make himself some much needed coffee, reminding himself to _bump_ into Sam on his way to the oven, just to add another one to his ever-growing list.

He didn’t make eye contact with his cousin, when he came to stand besides her, because he wasn’t one hundred percent functional to withstand a staring contest of wills. He knew she suspected something happened between them, because the level of clumsiness they sported around each other was unbelievable.

No. Scratch that. Nick was far too clumsy around Sam, which anted up the younger man's own level, resulting in awkward sharing of the space around them.

"You two are the cutest things I've seen in my entire life, Jo excluded," Anna said to her mug serenely.

"We're persons, not things, you hag," Nick muttered, without real venom. He was still disoriented after so many hours of sleep in a row he’s had since… probably since he was a kid.

But he wasn’t going to poke the fact that it only took Sam’s soothing fingers and body warmth to smack Nick into full on hibernating mode. Yeah, that was what he called hibernating. He slept through breakfast and lunch, and he didn’t remember Sam coming up and trying to wake him for the latter, even if the young man sustained he did so. Multiple times.

He sipped his freshly-made coffee. Yes, this was good. This was manageable. The warmth of the mug, the bitter taste of the coffee, the subtle feeling that his gears were getting back to work. Yeah, he could be functional and in top form in half an hour. Guaranteed.

"Who's Jo?" Sam asked, resting his back against the counter next to the fridge. Through mysterious ways (which were not so mysterious since Nick chose the spot and he was only through his second mug of coffee; he disliked tea), Sam ended up sandwiched between Nick and the fridge.

Anna looked up at him funny, but then it probably dawned on her that they never really talked about Jo, even if she dropped the name once or twice (or several hundreds times) during the past month.

"Jo's my fiancèe." Sam gawked at the straight face with which Anna told him this little detail, and Nick was about to snort, but he had coffee in his mouth so he abstained. It would only result in a short display of a black fountain -- and stains.

"But... but..."

"But what?" Nick asked, lifting a curious eyebrow. The knowledge that Anna had a girlfriend wasn’t enough?

A flush spread across Sam's cheeks as he averted his gaze. On any other occasions he would have found that blush cute -- even endearing, but as it was, it didn’t bode well.

"I... I don't know. I thought... you two were... " He gazed back at Nick then at Anna, who was watching them with a stony face. "Um... you know... together or..."

Nick’s mug collided with the floor in a splash of dark brown and shards gliding on the tiled floor. The shock on his face sent Anna into a fit of giggles, and he hadn’t had enough caffeine in his system to deal with this, so he crouched down and began to gather the pieces that once formed a mug.

"Don't tell me,” Anna said between her giggles, “you lived under the same roof with this old mummy and didn't know we were cousins... or related somehow!" Looking up and seeing the beet red flush Sam was sporting, she doubled over, gasping for air.

Nick said nothing in regard to Sam’s mistaken impression of them. There wasn’t a need for words. His face told everything there was to be said.

"Oh, God," Anna sighed at long last, drying the tears with the back of her hand as she straightened up. "I haven't laughed like this since Gabriel's last prank."

"Um... sorry," Sam apologized beyond embarrassed; Nick managed to collect the scattered shards and then clean the spot of coffee, so Sam was left standing awkwardly beside the fridge as Nick dumped the shattered mug into the bin. "I... I shouldn't have assumed... that you were... ugh."

Anna giggled softly, rounding the kitchen island and coming to pat him on the shoulder, offering a brilliant smile. "Don't worry," she said; then, "you're the first one to have mistook our relationship." She couldn't help teasing Sam, much to his dismay as he groaned.

"Anna, stop teasing Sam and get back to work. We open in twenty," Nick grumbled, tone admitting no argument as he ducked out of the kitchen.

"Yessir, right away sir!" Anna mocked, although she returned to her spot, drinking the last of her tea and setting the mug into the sink to be washed later.

It might have been Sam's paranoia, but the air between him and Nick felt tense, wrong, so he took it upon himself to apologize until Nick would forgive his stupid misinterpretation -- or kick him out for being a persistent son of a bitch. But that would be something Dean would do. All right, brothers and other relatives should be kept out of this, because this was about him and Nick and nobody else.

Taking a deep breath, he approached his boss. Nick was putting down the chairs from the tables, so Sam helped him with the last three, silently working up the nerve to just open his mouth and apologize. But the more he stole furtive glances at the man in question, the more coward he got. He hated himself when he did that. Most of the times he just spoke his mind regardless of who was in front of him, albeit in a subtle way.

Now, you just had to put him in front of Nick and you'd have a blabbering idiot or - if you were particularly lucky - a blushing schoolgirl, unable to put one syllable after the other.

He surprised himself when he got a hold of Nick's forearm as he turned towards the bar.

"Um..." Nick looked up at him, gaze as steady as the first time they met. Huh. Well, sleeping for twelve hours straight did have good results (although Nick's been in a different kind of daze since then; most probably the fault of sleeping for so many hours in a row; he kept bumping into things -- and then into Sam).

Nick sighed softly, when Sam struggled to get out words. "No, Sam, you don't have to apologize," he told Sam, guessing what he was trying to say even before Sam worked up the nerve to utter those words; he placed his free hand over Sam's with the intention of prying it gently, but for some reasons he didn't do it. "I'm not mad." His mouth twitched in that barely-there smirk of his.

"You're not?" The question was cushioned by his breath, rushing out in a hurry from his mouth. Somehow they gravitated closer to one another. The older man’s warmth seeped into Sam’s layers of clothes. It felt good.

Nick's eyes crinkled at the corners, the smile reaching the upper regions of his face. The color in his eyes was more vivid and brilliant than in the past few weeks, and Sam allowed himself a few seconds to soak all that up. This expression looked good on Nick. It made him appear younger by a couple of years.

"No, I'm not," he assured Sam, going so far as to squeeze his hand before letting them fall.

They probably won’t ever speak about it, but they began to offer physical comfort to each other more often and more freely after that. It was like an invisible wall has been broken between them. They were innocent touches, though. Nothing that an outsider wouldn't label as friendly. A pat on the back here, a touch on the elbow there -- nothing strange. But they knew their relationship shifted and mutated into something new.

Unexpected, yet comfortable.

They didn't talk about what happened the other night, either. Sam wouldn’t mention the fact that he fell asleep next to Nick and woke up at ten o'clock in the morning in a distorted position of ying and yang. Somehow, Sam fell inward on the bed, on both pillows, forehead pressed against Nick's small back and one arm draped over his middle. His clothes and shoes were on, but nobody was there to comment on it.

It took him some sheer physical strength to extricate his arm from within Nick's, who was clutching at it for dear life, because he lost his senses in it by then. No wonder, what with the unusual angle it was forced to bend. Nick, for his part, was in much of a foetal position, the back of his head cradled in the curve of Sam's stomach and knees drawn up on the bed.

Even if someone brainwashed him, he wouldn't be able to forget that scene and the sense of right with which he woke up.

Still. He brought none of it to light. And Nick told him he felt much better since then, which was good... right?

That was the furthest progress he's had with Nick since they met. Little by little, the kind bartender opened the door for Sam to peek inside at the man that lived behind the mask he put on everyday for the rest of the world.

Even Anna commented on the change and congratulated Sam for the progress, but Sam refused to accept any of it, mumbling something about him not being responsible for that and Anna punched him in the arm, smiling fondly. He caught the knowing glint in her eyes whenever all three of them were in the kitchen, usually before opening the bar. They've made a habit of meeting there, now that the upper, left cupboard right next to the sink was always stocked with tea.

In one of their conversations (they were becoming more frequent and prolonged), after Anna left, Sam discovered that Anna finished high school in England, from where her fixation with tea instead of coffee and that she met Jo at one of the Starbucks stores littered around the city.

Sam's life progressed smoothly and he never felt more content with everything since his last Christmas with Dean and dad. Yeah, that was a low blow to his feelings, but he swallowed down the oncoming wave of sorrow and pain and smiled a touch too brightly at the new customers taking the table near the front door.

“Whatch smilin’ at, Big Foot?” the man slurred and his companion guffawed as the one who spoke looked up at Sam with glassy eyes. The dark brown hair was dishevelled, greasy and shoulder-long and he wouldn’t be able to tell what color the ragged clothes had even if his life depended on it.

Okay. Shitfaced drunk _and_ rude. What he needed to take his mind off painful memories. He toned down his beam to a polite smile.

“What would you like to order, sirs?” Ignoring the jibes usually got him out of nasty situations.

“Didn’ answer my question, ya gangly giant.” Not the case with this customer.

“He’s the size of the friggin’ Sasquatch, Joe,” the other commented, the sheer amount of ignorance he was given baffling Sam. “What do they feed kids these days, growth hormones?” he wondered, shaking his head to himself.

Sam mentally back-pedaled slightly, studying the men in front of him and coming up with replies that stayed on the side of civilized, but also told them off. It’s been a long while since he’s been self-conscious of his height, and they poked close to that button.

“Ya done starin’ at me, you fucker?” The man - Joe - raised his voice, fist colliding with the table making Sam and his companion startle.

“Ease up on the bullshit, Joe,” the short-haired man warned. “We came here to drink our problems away, not start another fight.” But his words were falling on deaf ears. Joe was staring drunk daggers at Sam.

“I’m sorry, sir--” He tried to amend somehow, to placate the rising anger he could see in the man’s eyes.

But Joe was too caught up in his drunken haze to pay any attention to Sam’s apology, jumping to his feet and toppling his chair off. “I ain’t good for this dip-shit hole o’ yours? Not good enough to have a fuckin’ drink in peace? Do I have to explain myself to every fuckin’ piece of shit?”  

Sam’s hands were already up in a calming gesture, words on the tip of his tongue, when he caught the intention in Joe’s body language. He had time to start leaning back, when the fist came swinging -- only to be stopped by a hand.

Nick’s hand, Sam realized, taking in the familiar stocky man, who was half in front of him, legs apart and slightly bent.

“I’m going to ask you to leave this place,” Nick spoke up, Arctic tone sending a shiver down Sam’s spine. Jaw set, eyes glinting in the artificial light, it dawned on Sam that Nick was holding himself back with a painstakingly tight grip on his self control.

The shirt sleeve was rolled up above his elbow and Sam’s attention was caught by Nick’s forearm’s muscles, how they twitched and flexed to maintain the tight grip he had on Joe’s fist.

Joe growled, low and menacing, snatching his hand from Nick’s grasp just as his companion raised to his feet and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Lay down, Joe,” he told him harshly. “What the fuck’s wrong with you, man?”

Sam watched as Joe’s chest puffed in and out with his shallow breaths, fists clenched at his sides and face scrunched up in a hideous display of barely suppressed anger.

He should have stopped Nick, he really should have, because it was plain as daylight that this Joe was a walking bomb ready to explode. He just needed a small push to go off. And Nick offered it on a silver plate, when he asked them once again to leave. Sam had time to grab Nick’s elbow and pull him back, before Joe’s fist collided with Sam’s cheek, sending him toppling on the other side of the table, away from Nick.

Nick was quick in his actions and in the time it took Sam to get to the floor, blood oozing slowly from his split lip, Nick had Joe’s hand twisted painfully at his back and his upper body shoved violently into the table, a low cry escaping Joe’s lips when Nick pushed the trapped arm upwards. Any more pressure and he’d pop his shoulder out of its socket.

“Shit, man, are you alright?” Joe’s companion kneeled besides Sam, looking totally shocked by his friend’s action and worried for Sam’s well-being. He touched his shoulder lightly, almost fearfully.

Nick growled, honest to God _growled_. “Stay away from him!” he warned, his voice booming across the floor as he pinned the short-haired man with a dark look.

Anger was swimming in his eyes, manipulating the usually bright blue color into a hue only an ocean in plain storm could take on. Joe cried under him as Nick most probably exerted more pressure on the arm. The hush around the bar was tomb-like, and Sam would bet on anything that even the most drunken patron was shocked out of his stupor by the scene that was taking place.

Joe’s companion scrambled to his feet, back-pedaling two steps away from Sam’s half sitting body.

“Get out. _Now!_ ” Nick ordered, letting Joe go with a shove as he went and kneeled by Sam’s side and took his jaw in one hand.

Sam had half a mind to look at the two customers who trudged to the front door, exiting the bar.

“How are you feeling, Sam?” The look in his eyes returned to normal, concerned etched in his feature.

Sam found it curious how the angles of Nick’s face could be both resolutely angry hard and worriedly soft.

“Coppery taste in my mouth,” Sam replied, quirking his lips up a fraction but grimacing when the tip of Nick’s fingers touched his bruised cheek. At least experience told him it was bruised. He hadn’t had a chance to look at himself in the mirror.

“Sorry,” he apologized, cupping his jaw instead. “Can you stand?”

“I think so.” But Nick helped him stand up anyway, hands hovering for a bit in mid air, just to be ready should Sam lose his balance.

“I’m fine, Nick, thanks,” Sam assured him, eyes darting to the hovering hands in faint amusement. He quirked the uninjured side of his mouth into a half-smile. “I’m going to wash my mouth and see if anything else is damaged. Are you good here?”

Nick stared at Sam’s bluish cheek with a shadow of a frown. “Yes.” But neither moved. They stood there until someone scraped his chair on the floor and snapped both of them out of their bubble.

Without another word, Sam made his way up the stairs and into Nick’s bathroom, the only one on the upper floor.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote: Shana Abe.

\----

 

_I want to fall asleep, and wake, knowing my heart is safe._

 

\----

Part II

 

Nick found Sam splayed on the too-short, worn-out leather couch he purchased a couple of years ago at a second-hand store. The only other room besides the two bedrooms where he was sure he could find Sam was a larger room on the opposite side of the hall that faced towards the couple hundred yards of tall, unmowed grass and the forest further in the background.

Being ten past two in the morning, there was no chance he could see that much out of the two windows opposite the door.

Sam was snoring softly in the dim light from the standing lamp in the far corner of the room. When Nick rounded the couch, since it faced the windows and not the door, he found no book forgotten on his chest. It happened on more occasions than he could remember since Sam discovered Nick’s small corner of heaven.

Both left and right walls were covered by dark, hardwood shelves full of books, the only furnishings Nick allowed himself to purchase handmade and not from the few trips to Ikea.

He had half a mind to go and lay on the other couch, pushed under the window and much longer and newer than the one Sam was sleeping on, but when he moved his shin bumped into the twenty something inches of unpolished wood table he personally created and the cactus in the middle quivered for a split second before settling down.

Sam wasn’t fond of cacti; he grimaced the first time he saw it, and Nick suspected that he had in mind a devious plan to get rid of it and put something else in its place.

Most probably something that needed water thrice a week and Nick would forget about it and then feel guilty for killing another plant. At least with a cactus he could water it when he remembered and no one would complain. But so far, Sam made no move to speak with Nick about it, even if he didn’t cease to throw looks at it whenever he came into that room.

Nick rubbed at his shin and made a mental note to ask the big guy about the reason why he didn’t take the other couch, since it could comfortably accommodate all of his six feet and some of gangly limbs.

He studied Sam’s sleeping face some more, taking in particulars and never memorizing any of them because he was deep into his mind, thinking about how much he had wanted to disfigure that asshole for laying a finger on Sam, how much he fought with himself to _not_ do that and how much bitter pleasure his cries of pain triggered in him, even if they weren’t nowhere near as much as he would have liked to hear.

He inadvertently pushed his luck when the tips of his fingers skimmed over Sam’s uninjured cheek, brushing away a few locks of hair, and Sam stirred and opened his eyes before Nick had a chance to pull away his hand and pull back at a safe distance.

His hand froze on his temple as he made eye contact with Sam.

“Nick,” Sam whispered, word caught on an exhale. “What time is it?” he asked gruffly and Nick decided that his hand would come away _now_ , but just as he put an inch or two of distance, Sam’s hand shot up and caught Nick’s wrist.

They both stilled, surprised by Sam’s action, because neither expected it.

“Sorry,” Sam’s mouth apologized, but his eyes weren’t and his hand didn’t feel like it would loosen its grip on his wrist any time soon.

Nick swallowed. Being swarmed by all these mixed signals on top of his conflicting feelings wasn’t how he thought his night would end. But Sam did a good job at keeping the eye contact steady and intense.

“It’s late,” he said, low, toneless. He didn’t even know what he wanted to say with that, but his mouth grew a mind of its own in-between one breath and the other. “You should go sleep in your bed.” Which, in Nick's unofficial opinion, would be the worst decision Sam could make.

"Yeah, I should," Sam matched his tone of voice. "You still haven't upgraded your couch to a bigger one."

Shit. They were so close. Who was the stupid one who leaned forward? Oh yeah, that would be him, since Sam's head was still on the couch's arm.

"You could've taken the other one," Nick whispered, so damn _few_ inches between them. This situation was sinking faster than the Titanic.

"I like this one," Sam countered, never once leaving Nick's eyes.

"Yet you're the one who complains," Nick retorted, forcing himself to still where he was. _Fuck_ , Sam's breath was ghosting over his face. What was he doing? His wrist was still Sam's captive and he was a breath away from kissing the man, did he have all the screws in the right place?

He should lean up. He should stand up, snatch his wrist and run like fire burned under his feet. He-- _wasn't going to panic!_

"Ow, ow, ow," Sam whimpered, releasing Nick as his other hand came up to bat away the bartender's fingers, because they were pressing lightly over his bruised cheek. "Why did you do that for?" He frowned, propping himself on his elbow.

"Bed, Sam." Nick leaned back on his hunches, poker face at full blast. "It's late and we both need to sleep." He stood up and exited the room without a backwards glance or a good night.

Sam slumped down on the couch, forearm covering his eyes. The grin wouldn't stay at bay.

"Your poker face is thinning around the edges," he told the empty room, a faint giddy note in his tone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short as it may be, I like this chapter so much for reasons I can't quite decide which one is truer. Probably because of Nick's little haven and that cactus (I'm not fond of them either)? Or their interaction? I can't decide XD
> 
> Feel free to tell me what you liked (or disliked) about this chapter!  
> P.S. I ended up appropriating a line from a song. If you're curious, hit up "You" by Keaton Henson and you'll discover which :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Verses: "Fons" by Pura López-Colomé (it's from the same poem that you find on chapte4) :)
> 
> chapter warning: the result of past self-harm

\----

 

 _I kissed you like a shipwreck,_  
_like one who insufflates the word._

 

\----

 

 

It was during a Saturday night that something clicked in the wrong place. They were nearing three in the morning and there were still a few patrons occupying different tables, when a blonde woman sauntered into the local on wobbly legs. She was drunk, but not so drunk as to be unable to walk on her own -- on high heels no less.

Anna had long since gone home, which left him and Nick to take care of the drunkers -- nothing new there. Sam was cleaning the tables from the last patrons, filling his tray with empty bottle of beers and glasses when he caught sight of the woman becoming overly confident with her touches on Nick.

At first, he shrugged it off. It wasn’t like the women didn’t flirt with Nick every now and then (some of them taking their chances with Sam, but he always politely turned them down), but this one seemed different. Not because she was dressed a bit less than the usual ones, but because she was bolder.

He continued stealing glance in their direction as he cleaned the last table. He had to stop and wake up the last patron in the local, helping him to his feet and guiding him out of the bar. He made sure that the man was awake enough to know which direction was home.

As he closed the door he sighed in relief, content to have finished another night of hard work. Tiredness clung to him snugly and he couldn't wait to hit his soft bed and sleep 'til noon.

A low chuckle cut him off shortly and his head snapped up towards the bar. The woman was halfway on top of the bar and close to Nick -- too close, the bold voice in his head whispered, stirring some nasty feelings deep in his gut. He couldn’t make what they were talking about, but a sudden rush of something ugly overtook him, and he had to look elsewhere, lest he did something foolish.

He convinced himself to get his work done, taking the last large glass, this one half full of beer and putting it on the second tray, along with other two. The problem was that he had to give them to Nick, or put them in the sink himself. Either way, he was forced to head over to the bar.

He steeled his nerves for the inevitable, when the woman's whine reached his ears.

"Awww, c'mon! You're no fun like this! I can lower the price for you. Or even no money. Yeah. How ‘bout that? One quick lay in that spacey bed o' yours for free. Hmm?"

It was quite possible that Sam's vision darkened for a split second at the words. Her? In Nick's bed? Where he and Nick slept the other night? Well. That was the last drop. Everything came spilling unbidden in Sam, every ugly feeling he had about her since the moment she stepped inside.

That was it.

Sam was about to become the asshole some people thought he was.

Everything around him turned fuzzy around the edges except the woman whose hand reached Nick's shoulder, ugly red nails skimming tauntingly close to Nick’s throat.

That was as far as she'd go tonight -- or ever.

It became a reality when he stopped short of a step to her side, lifted the half-full glass of beer in his hand above her head and turned it over, spilling the liquid on the woman. The resulting yelp of surprise and falling on the ground were the most satisfying things Sam's heard and seen in his entire life.

He didn't care that he'd have to clean up the counter and wherever the beer got on. He didn't even pay attention to the woman's curses as she pushed herself up and stormed out of the bar like a Fury.

What he did register was Nick's deep, rich chuckles.

"Oh God," Sam whispered, shocked at himself for acting so petty. "I..." He looked over at Nick, whose expression held only amusement and delight. "I tripped...?" He half shrugged, letting the guilt spill into his expression.

Nick's chuckle turned into a laugh. Full on, unrestrained laugh, which made Sam's corners of the mouth twitch in a barely concealed smile.

"Why did you do it?" Nick asked when he calmed down enough to form words, his expression open and serene; he looked so much younger like this. He always looked younger when he was happy.

"Um... I don't know," Sam confessed, looking down at the high stool, a light flush creeping up his neck. "I guess she was more handsy than the others so..." he trailed off, chancing a glance at Nick. "I was jealous," he muttered, hoping that the other man didn't hear him.

"Jealous?" Of course he picked up on what Sam said. Wonderful. Now go ahead and dig your grave a little deeper, Sammy boy.

"Yeah, jealous," Sam said frustrated and embarrassed with himself. "What's so strange about it? Everybody gets jealous."

"Yeah, but..." Nick cut himself off, old brakes activating when he was about to say too much about himself; but this was Sam he was trying to spill his guts to.

He proved that whatever Nick had to say, it would always remain safe with him and he wouldn't ever judge a person based off on looks or first impressions. He always allowed the others the benefit of doubt, even if the others almost never returned the favour.

He sighed. "I'm used to be the only one... jealous."

Sam freezed, eyes widening slowly. Nick averted his gaze, something he was not used to do.

"But... why?" he uttered, voice soft, barely above a whisper. "I mean," he cleared his throat, "you're an... attractive man," he continued, struggling to get words out and probably keeping at bay the blush that threatened to take on darker shades; it was an adorable scene, and Nick's stomach took its chances at flip overs. "And... I hardly believe anybody who has even the slightest interest in you wouldn't... be jealous."

The amused smirk reached his eyes as he watched Sam push out comforting words. There was no stopping the itching in his fingers as he reached over the counter for the young man, gripping the lapels of his opened flannel shirt and pulling him towards Nick. He caught Sam's lips not a split second later, tasting them and confirming his every thought about their softness.

Sam was surprised at first, a small sound catching in his throat, but he soon found appropriate tasks for his hands as he guided them separately, one in Nick’s hair and the other on his neck. They both melted into each other, finding so much consolation into the other.

"Sam..." It came out as a pathetic whine; he was still unable and unwilling to separate himself from Sam's mouth, so he started talking between kisses, which were wholeheartedly answered. "You.. foolish... foolish man." He probably wanted to chide him, but they sounded more relieved than anything.

"I might be," Sam said against Nick's lips, going in for another kiss before continuing, "I can't help it."

Nick chuckled and took a small break from tasting Sam's mouth, leaning against his forehead and breathing heavily. Both of them. Looking down at the counter that still separated them, he realized Sam's hand was covering his own.

Sam leaned back a few inches to look at Nick. "What now?" he whispered, as if afraid to break the bubble they created around themselves. Truth to be told, Nick too, was afraid to step out of it. Reality might not be as forgiving as he believed it to be, and Sam might be snatched away from him. He twisted his hand under Sam's and entwined their fingers in a swift motion. He wouldn't let that happen.

As Sam looked down at their hands in surprise, which soon melted into a shy smile and a delighted look, the decision cemented itself in Nick's mind: he wanted Sam, he wanted him wholeheartedly and if he had to fight to have him each day for the rest of his life, he would do it.

"Well, this could go two ways," Nick found himself saying. "You can either choose to come with me and get to know each other... better," burning passion darkened his eyes; it was obvious what he was talking about, "or we could say goodnight to each other and take it slowly. I'm okay with whichever you choose Sam."

The young man regarded Nick for some time, weighing down each option. He picked up on the fact that even if he made it clear that he'd wait for Sam should he chose the second option, he didn't say anything about forgetting this kiss (okay, kisses) ever happened. Nick wanted this, whatever they had going on, and he didn't want to let it go.

Sam swallowed, eyes darting between their entwined hands and Nick's heavy gaze.

"You're serious about this," he stated, lifting their hands a few inches. "You don't want just a one night fling."

Nick frowned slightly. "Sam, if I wanted a fling I would have made a move on you within the first week." A pause. "You're more than that," he whispered, voice oddly vulnerable.

Sam didn't stop himself from acting on his impulses, pulling Nick towards him and colliding with his mouth into a desperate, rough kiss. "I want it..." Sam said between kisses, voice barely a whisper, but frantic nonetheless. "I want all of it... both options. I want you. I've been wanting you since the second day."

Nick chuckled against his lips, trying to keep up with Sam. "Only the second day?" Nick asked, amused. "I thought you were faster than that." He leaned back a bit, making Sam chase after his lips.

"Damn it, Nick!" Sam said in frustration when he couldn't get a hold of the man's mouth.

Nick smirked down at him with fondness. The other hand came up to caress Sam's cheek in a loving way. He disentangled their hands and came to stand before Sam. There was no such thing as a few inches between them. Nick was having a hard time keeping his hands to himself, so he put them securely on Sam's hips, tilting up his chin a bit to be within kissing distance from the young man.

"We can't do both options, Sam," Nick said in a serious tone, because he needed to pierce through the veil of lust that had Sam's pupils blown and eyes darting constantly towards Nick's lips. The hunger he could see in there was enough to make his nether parts twitch in response.

"First one," Sam whispered, already dipping his head with the sole intent of taking Nick's mouth once again. "I want you and I don't have the patience of a nun." He let the last words be swallowed by Nick, because even if he was a patient man, he was unable to resist such a temptation.

And Sam was one in every sense of the word.

They made their way upstairs slower than they would have liked, but it was impossible not to when they refused to take their hands or mouth off each other for even a second. Sam's room was the closest to the stairs, but somehow they decided that Nick's room was the place where they'd put an end to the sexual tension going on between them.

"Do you have condoms and..."

"Bedside table," Nick interrupted breathlessly as he helped Sam get rid of the t-shirt and swiftly got to work on his jeans' button.

Nick was just as half naked as Sam, a path of rumpled clothes following them to the bed from the door. Sam's flannel shirt was the first in a row.

"God, I want you so much," Sam whispered between kisses, finally taking the last piece of clothing off Nick. "I don't care who's topping. I just want you... in me, around me. Anyway I can get you."

They were both hard and aching to be touched by the time Sam's boxers fell on the floor. It seemed that Sam was going to top, seeing as Nick was splayed diagonally on the bed. They gasped when Sam's cock slid along Nick's, because it's been too long since they last got laid.

"Fuck," Sam cursed into Nick's shoulder, unable to stop himself from repeating the motion.

"We’re heading there," Nick promised, eyes closed and hands on Sam's hips, encouraging him to continue. "Bedside table. Second drawer," he whispered into Sam's ear as he felt his orgasm build.

Sam moved on autopilot, searching hastily for the condoms and the tube of lube. Returning above Nick, he put them at their right, close enough that Sam didn't have to look to be able to pick them up.

"Are you sure?" Sam asked, nipping at the older man's throat.

"Yeah." Nick's hand went to cradle into Sam's hair. "It's been a long time... but I think I can manage." Sam dived in for another long, slow kiss, exploring Nick's mouth.

They both groaned and broke the kiss when Nick’s hand enclosed around their erections and Sam’s hips stuttered, breathing heavily into Nick’s shoulder.

“If you continue like that, I won’t… resist much,” Sam told him, fighting with himself to control his breathing and the critical level his orgasm was reaching.

He pushed himself up and looked down at Nick. That mischievous smirk on the older man’s lips didn’t bode well and before Sam had time to put two and two together, Nick’s hand twisted in a wicked way and Sam was gasping and spilling all over him, eyes wide in surprise, because he couldn’t have been so close to release.

Nick chuckled into his shoulder as Sam boxed his head with his forearms and groaned in defeat. His breath was wet and hot against Nick’s neck, but Sam wasn’t about to admit defeat. Oh, no. That was only a small reprieve he allowed himself before he latched onto Nick’s shoulder, biting down and drawing out a moan from the man.

It probably took Nick a couple of seconds more and Sam’s tongue as he licked at the mark he left close at the base of Nick’s throat, to have the man climaxing under Sam.

They took their sweet time catching their breaths and just running hands over each other in a lazy, exploratory kind of way. Then, when the room seemed to cool down just on the nasty side of uncomfortable, Sam pushed himself up and off the bed. Nick whined at the lost of the wall of warmth before he could stop himself.

Sam chuckled. “I’m going to wet a towel and clean yourself up.” And because he still rode the afterglow of his orgasm, he felt bold enough to wink cheekily at the older man.

Returning with said towel in hand, Sam knelt on the bed besides Nick and cleaned him of their drying come with care and attention. It felt so good, having someone taking care of you, that Nick was almost dozing off in his post-coital bliss.

But not quite.

He surged forward and caught Sam’s hand just as he was about to leave the bed. Sam looked at him in surprise, not knowing what Nick wanted, but as he opened his mouth to ask just as much, Nick extricated the dirty cloth from his hand and threw it on the floor carelessly (he’d have to pick it up in the morning, but that wasn’t important right now). He moved onto his knees and guided Sam further on the bed, pushing at his shoulders to lay back on the pillows.

Sam complied, although the questions were written all over his face. Nick just smiled wickedly down at him and straddled his hips. A thrill ran down his spine when he saw the change in Sam’s expression; confusion melted into full on lust and big hands found his hips and squeezed in either appreciation or permission, Nick wasn’t sure.

But it didn’t matter anyway.

He bent down and kissed him again, Sam allowing him entrance when the tip of his tongue teased at his lips. The same hands from his hips came up into his hair, keeping him where Sam wanted him: glued to his lips. But Nick wasn’t having it. He swiftly pulled Sam’s hands up on either side of his head, pinning them there.

It elicited a low moan and an arch of back, which Nick met with resistance. He bit down on Sam’s lower lip and applied more force over his hands when Sam struggled to free them. It wasn’t even a proper struggle, just a half-hearted twist which triggered Nick’s instinct to push back.

He leaned up a bit and looked down at the man beneath him. The hunger and lust he saw there threatened to swallow him whole, if there wasn’t a mirroring expression on his face already. Only, he learned to control his lust and channel it where he wanted it go. Sam’s was wild and burning viciously.

Sam groaned when Nick pressed his hips down and trapped their already hardened cocks between them. He still struggled, but Nick had good leverage over him. Sam bit his lower lip when he understood that Nick wouldn’t budge an inch and his eyes darted to the older man’s biceps. They flexed, but stayed tense as he pinned Sam’s hands to the pillow.

That seemed to be a major turn on, because Sam’s dick twitched against Nick’s and when he looked up at him again, the hunger and impatience was even more pronounced than before.

Nick’s breath hitched, because this gorgeous man responded so beautifully to everything that was Nick and it made him heady with pleasure and power. He never would have thought he’d relish having so much power over another human being. He wanted to worship him, shower him in care and attention, make him smile, laugh, cry out in pleasure, moan, swear -- everything.

Nick exhaled shakily before leaning back down, but not to kiss Sam as the man thought he would do.

“I’m going to lavish you before you can fuck me,” Nick whispered close to his ear and Sam gasped, arching his hips up involuntarily. “I want to taste and kiss every inch of your body and take you apart in doing so before I give you permission to fuck me into oblivion.” Sam was whining pathetically by this point, teeth biting hard into his lower lip to stave off the orgasm that was building low in his gut at Nick’s filthy words. “And you will fuck me like you’ve never fucked anyone else, but first you’ll have to promise me you’ll keep your hands where they are now.” He leaned up and looked down at Sam.

Sam was breathing erratically and his lower lip was red from the many times his teeth scraped and bit down on it. Nick dipped his head until his lips were almost touching Sam, but kept that teasing distance when Sam leaned up to kiss him.

“Promise me, Sam.” Another twitch of his dick and Nick couldn’t help the small roll of his hips in response.

Sam opened his mouth, breathing for a couple of seconds as Nick waited patiently for Sam to say the words, all the while staring at each other.

“I promise,” he rasped finally and cleared his throat. “I promise I won’t move… much.”

Nick huffed a small laugh at that, but complied and dived down to plunder Sam’s mouth with renewed hunger and passion. His hands left Sam’s and he repositioned his legs so that one was between Sam’s and gave Nick more space to explore.

Sam’s hands twitched, but stayed on the pillow as he promised and Nick climbed down on his jaw and then neck, nipping, but abstaining from leaving any marks where it could be visible, even if something dark and smoldering urged him to do just that.

He appeased it by peppering Sam’s chest with such marks, tongue swirling over one nipple as his fingers squeezed the other and Sam arched his back and moaned once again and Nick climbed down to his stomach, kissing a path, just as his hands were caressing his sides, moving slowly towards his thighs.

“Shit,” Sam swore under his breath, fighting against his impulses to just grab the man and push him into the mattress; it took all he had to not give in. “Nick,” he whined, “I can’t hold back... please…”

But then Nick’s fingers skimmed the inside of Sam’s thigh and how could he have forgotten about them, because they’re a constant reminder of why he wouldn’t go out and Sam freezed and his eyes flew open, connecting with Nick’s, where concern was pushing aside the lust. He was crouched between Sam’s legs and the hand in question was still there, covering the marks he inflicted upon himself to contrast the pain he felt inside.

He sat up, breaking the promise. The panic was overwhelming him and he started hyperventilating, but before he could flee the room, Nick’s hands framed his head, forcing Sam to look at him.

“Don’t,” he said, a firm note to his otherwise calm tone. “It’s okay, Sam.”

“No, it’s not.” He fought back the tears, because he was good at compartmentalizing his emotional pain. He swore he was. “I-I have… I must... I…”

“No, you don’t, Sam.” Nick’s eyes were steady and focused on Sam, his expression open. “I won’t ever judge you. I won’t ever look at you differently for whatever happened in your past. It’s the you here and now that counts. I’m here. I want to be here for you, _with_ you. So please, don’t shut me out.”

Tears were running down Sam’s cheeks, because Nick shouldn’t be like this, shouldn’t accept so much. Sam was broken, yet Nick was willing to accept him as he was, sharp shards and all. How could he have won against the emotions that those simple words pushed forward? He didn’t even put a good lid over them in the first place.

Kindness always unravelled even the most tight knotted person.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, leaning his head on Nick’s shoulder, just as the man gathered him to his chest and offered comfort.

“Shh, you don't have to apologize. It's not your fault," Nick reassured him, hand caressing his head.

"Yes, it is," Sam argued back. "It is. I'm weak and pathetic and a piece--" But Nick pushed him back gently and cradled his face into his hands once again.

"Look at me, Sam" he insisted, when the young man kept looking sideways. He waited until Sam reluctantly made eye contact with Nick; fierceness lit his eyes and Sam was swallowed whole into those depths. "This, whatever has happened in your past to warrant harming yourself, does not make you weak or pathetic. Don't ever speak about yourself like that. You are smart and dead gorgeous," the shadow of a weak smile flitted across Sam's face, "and you're gentle and caring. You are so many things, Sam. You are brilliant and beautiful and I want you to believe me when I say that your past self does not make who you are today. It's what you do to change yourself that counts."

Sam was left astonished by Nick's words. He never knew the man saw all those things in him. The warmth they infused in him spread like wildfire, consuming him whole.

"Nick..." he trailed off, voice breaking in the middle of the name, because so much was going on inside of him, a whirlwind of emotions running rampant.

"It’s okay,” Nick said, gathering the tall man into his arms once again; it was the safest place he could think of for this beautiful, hurt giant. “I’m here.”

Sam got drunk on the steady rhythm of the older man’s breath and murmured words, how the combination soothed his sobs and calmed the storm of self-deprecating thoughts. The numbness that followed was welcomed by Sam, because it meant no more thoughts, no more feelings, no more bottling it all up and no more suffering.

Nick tucked them both under the covers and laid face-to-face, staring at each other for a long while. Sam's hand went to touch Nick's face, tracing the bone of his brow, trailing down on his cheek, thumb caressing the corner of his lips, moving along on the lower one, and Nick caught his wrist in a loose fist and kissed his palm.

They never broke the eye contact, Nick's a steady gaze and Sam's widening in surprise at the gesture. A gesture that reminded Sam of the healed cut in his palm, of the first time they met. A shuddering breath escaped from his mouth.

There was a promise in that kiss, somewhere.

Like sealing a deal.

And Sam closed the distance between them and murmured "thank you," to the skin of his neck.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .... ye, I know. I'm such a bastard for cutting the sexy time short, but I couldn't have ignored them.


	9. Love that can demonstrate its fragility

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote by Paulo Coelho.

\----

 

_The strongest love is the love that can demonstrate its fragility._

 

\----

 

 

Nick woke up to a quiet room and a cold left side of bed. He peered one eye open, taking in the rumpled sheets at his side that were highlighted by the light that spilled through the half covered window. He closed his eyes again and turned the other way, breathing evenly.

But the dip between his eyebrows was evident.

Wasn’t someone supposed to be there, besides him?

The previous night came crashing down on him and he was up before his eyes were fully opened. He had to steady himself with a hand on the bed, because the sudden movement screwed a little with his vision and his balance. He grunted and tried to scrub away some of his sleep with the knuckles of one hand.

His thoughts were a bundle of questions and half-formed sentences and he needed to use the loo like _right now_. Taking care of it and then splashing cold water over his face, he felt more awake and cognitive than before, so he changed into his pair of denim and a black t-shirt and padded barefoot out of his bedroom.

The first room to check was Sam’s, because logic indicated that he might be there, but pushing the door wide open it was obvious that Sam wasn’t. Hasn’t been there by the unlived look the room had. His second option was the library, and it should have been the first one, because his big, gentle man was sprawled on the worn-out leather couch, one leg swinging lazily where it rested over the backrest.

Okay, back down. It was too early for being possessive, even if Sam kind of crossed that line with yesterday’s events.

The smile worms its way on his lips when he remembers it. He’s never had people be possessive of him; not once in his life. It’s always been him the one who felt like that for people he allowed in his life, but it was always a tamed kind of possessiveness. More like overprotective than anything else.

Granted, the woman had been quite handsy and rude, but he had it under control. Or so he thought, until Sam tipped over that glass of beer and the woman stormed out cursing. That was what made Nick’s chest constrict and swell with a warm feeling.

Sam snorted and Nick snapped out of his musings.

“I never knew books could keep you warm,” Nick said out loud, pushing the door almost closed behind him and making his way towards the couch. Sam startled and sat up, surprise written on his face.

“Nick… I didn’t hear you… come in,” he trailed off, because Nick was already there, pushing a hand through the long hair, a hint of nails on his scalp that made Sam’s eyes flutter close and lean into the touch.

Good to know he could apply the same treatment he received to the young man. Truth was, he found it hard to keep his hands to himself, so pushing his other hand in Sam’s hair to link his fingers at the back of his head and leaning down to brush his lips over Sam’s, had the young man’s eyes flutter open.

“How are you feeling?” he asked Sam, not moving back an inch.

Sam seemed to have a difficult time getting his mouth to work, and Nick knew that his stare could have an intense effect on whoever he chose to exert it. He kind of liked how Sam responded to it.

“Better,” he rasped and then cleared his throat. “How did you sleep?”

Nick’s lips twitched into an amused little smirk. “I slept well,” he said, “until I opened my eyes and you weren’t there.”

Sam winced and opened his mouth to apologize most probably (such was the nature of the man Nick started to fall for), but Nick quickly silenced the words with his lips.

They lazed around in the library for the better part of the morning, each with a book of his choosing. Nick made himself comfortable on the other couch and even managed to convince Sam to come and join him. Not that he had to use much of his persuasive skills; he only needed to promise extended physical contact and Sam was sold.

“You really should think about changing the cactus with something more -- colorful,” Sam mused from where he was cradled between Nick’s legs, his head tucked under the bartender’s chin. Taking into account the position, Nick settled for reading the same book as Sam, even if he already knew what happened next, so he mostly skimmed the text, and focused on the warm body he had pressed against him.

This was what settled down emotions he wasn’t aware where restless.

Nick hummed, the rumble of his voice reverberating through Sam’s back. A pleasant feeling settled in his stomach when the hand that rested idly along the couch’s backrest came to play in his hair, blunt nail pressing here and there on his scalp. The delighted moan filled the short silence before Sam could stop it, but he wasn’t embarrassed enough to shy away from Nick’s hand.

“It’s low maintenance,” Nick replied into his crown of hair, lips moving strands of hair, before kissing the place.

“Or maybe you’re just a lazy old man,” Sam said, letting the book he kept upright in his lap lie flat on his stomach.

“In my defence, I’m the owner of a bar.”

“Weak defence,” Sam argued, although the smile bled into his words. “It’s not convincing enough. Ever heard of multitasking? Post it notes?”

“Alright, Mr. Attorney,” Nick interrupted the list of things he should do just to keep a plant or two that needed his attention in his house. “I’ll concede the lazy part.”

“But not the old?” Sam asked, amused. Nick swatted his thigh with the free hand and Sam yelped (in a manly fashion, mind), laughing when Nick put to test how nimble his fingers still were as he tickled Sam’s sides.

The young man thrashed, long legs flailing, because Nick’s thighs had a good hold of his hips. The tickle attack came to an end when Sam’s book fell on the floor with a dull thump. Both of them were smiling like two teenagers at a pillow fight and breathing hard.

Sam bent over Nick’s leg to retrieve the victimised book.

“I don’t remember you complaining about my age a couple of hours ago.” It sounded like a tease for all intents and purposes, but Sam still froze for a second or two, before grabbing the book and leaning back up. He didn’t meet Nick’s eyes, his whole body rigid.

“Sam?” Nick’s warm hand curled around his bicep, emphasising the worry in his tone.

“Thank you for… that.” His Adam apple worked furiously and the muscles in his jaw twitched when Nick looked up at him. “I’m sorry for--”

“Sam,” Nick interrupted, nuzzling his nose against his cheek, warm puffs of breath ghosting over Sam’s jaw and side of neck. Nick’s other hand came to rest over Sam’s midriff in a loose embrace.

He didn’t push the older man away, but he didn’t relax either. So Nick changed his tactics a bit, hand coming up and cradling his jaw to steer it towards Nick. He looked into his eyes for a long moment, conveying everything the words couldn’t, before leaning down the half inch that separated their mouths into a chaste, slow kiss.

It was Sam who opened his mouth and allowed Nick entrance, but the kiss didn’t turn into searing hot or desperate. It retained the same chastity, although on a more deeper level. It was reassurance, support and care all rolled up into Nick’s warm lips.

Sam melted then and there, a hand worming it’s way into Nick’s hair and resting there as the other hand seemed content to just lay on the man’s hip.

“You’re safe here,” Nick whispered breathlessly, lips still touching Sam’s, because parting now even an inch would hurt him too much. “No one is touching you without you wanting it.” He pinned Sam with one of his stares, resolute determination shadowing the blown pupils and Sam noded and dived in for another kiss.

They made out on the couch for a long time. There wasn’t an end to meet; none of the touches hid anything but a wish to comfort, reassure the other that they have a friend who shares their pain, that they’re not alone.

Kisses and caresses were shared and the cactus was forgotten.

\---

Anna couldn't help but stare at them as they moved around in the kitchen. Both still had bed hair as if they just rolled out of it, even if it was half past six in the late afternoon.

Nick never slept in the afternoon.

"Are we alright?" she asked suspiciously, kitchen knife hovering over the last bits of ingredients she was chopping.

Sam gave her a puzzled look, as if he didn't know what she was talking about, but Nick knew her well enough to realize she was in the process of discovering that they lazed around in the living room slash library, and then made out on the couch for the better part of the early afternoon. It shouldn’t have surprised Nick that the library became Sam’s little sanctuary when he wanted to escape or just relax and forget that there was a world out there, behind the curtainless window.

He was content there. More content than he’s ever seen him since he stumbled into his bar. That kind of simplistic happiness warmed Nick.

"Yes, Anna, we're fine," Nick answered, before Sam said something that lit the light in her head. He didn't want to hide what they did last night from Anna, but it was too early to be sure of where they were heading. After all, they knew each other for barely two months.

She lifted an eyebrow, telling him that she wasn't buying any word, but eventually she relented, leaving the matter alone -- for now. She'd have time later to prod his cousin. He always gave in. Every single time.

Soon they each found their hands full of orders and small talk and cleaning and trips to and from the kitchen, and none of them had time to even smile at each other in passing (although truth to be told, Sam and Nick did make eye contact several times during the night). It became their way of telling each other that they were fine and that they knew and accepted that their relationship evolved into something else.

"Sam," Nick called him as he passed by with an empty tray, "could you go into the store room and bring me another case of these bottles?" he asked, giving him an empty one.

Sam smiled, taking the case with empty bottles of beer. "Sure."

Ducking into the small hallway at the back of the bar, close to the kitchen, he made his way past the iron staircase that led to the upper floor and into a large room, full of high shelves and unopened boxes. They were everywhere, and the poorly lit room didn't help Sam navigate the maze-like space. On one or two occasion he stubbed his toe on shelves or heavy boxes, which triggered muttered curses and sharp intakes of breaths.

When he finally found the drinks he was supposed to bring to Nick, he exhaled in relief. Making his way back was relatively more easy, switching off the light and closing the door on his trip back to the front room. The case was relatively heavy, but his past workouts finally came to pay off.

He didn't expect to see the blonde woman from the other night so early and so hell bent on getting into Nick's pants. Sam allowed only a minor hitch in his step as he approached the bar. Only this time he went behind the counter, letting the case fall with a loud thud right next to Nick’s leg.

The older man turned towards Sam not a moment later. There was only a glimpse of surprise in Nick's eyes as Sam looked at him.

“Aren’t you going to apologize for what you did yesterday?” The woman chirped from Sam’s right, and the scratchy note of her voice told Sam of a heavy smoker. She was diligently digging her grave for years, then. Still, the sarcastic note to her voice grated on his nerves.

“I apologize for my behaviour the other night,” Sam said flatly, an edge of resentment to his tone.

“Aw, ain’t you a grumpy puppy?” she sneered, resting her elbows on the counter. “I didn’t hear any feeling in that, so try again.”

“He apologized. End of story,” Nick intervened, fixing a cold smile on her.

“Mm, I like that look on you.” She twirled a lock of blonde hair around her finger, tongue wetting her heavily-glossed lips. “Makes me all hot and bothered. You sure you don’t want to blow some steam off? We could go in the back room and have fun.”

Sam calmly flattened his hands on the lower counter and leaned in until he was a few inches from the woman. “The only fun you’ll be having right now will be to walk that killer heels of yours back out of this bar and never come here again.”

She scoffed, although the invade-her-personal-space trick didn’t pass unregistered. “All bark, no bite.”

“You sure you want to test that theory?” Sam asked, a cruel smile curving up his lips, eyes dancing wildly, not unlike a predator ready to pounce on his prey.

They looked at each other for a few, tense moments, before the woman relented, tossed a few choice words in Sam’s direction and walked out of the bar.

Sam has always been an open book for whoever knew him for more than a couple of days, so he must've had a funny expression when he leaned back up, if Nick deemed it necessary to step into his personal space and surreptitiously touch Sam's left hand in a reassuring gesture.

"It’s okay, Sam," Nick said softly, looking straight into his eyes: another form of reassurance.

Sam gave him a slight nod and managed to relax a bit. The preternatural noise of the bar returned to him and he strode into the kitchen, taking out the last meals for tonight.

"What's with the long face?" Anna asked him as he returned with a tray full of dirty dishes; he drowned each plate and cutlery into the half-full sink. Anna's red shirt was already rolled up over her elbows, but she glanced at him every now and then.

Again, he should’ve put some effort into his poker face. Especially when his jealousy was having a fit here.

"Nothing," he answered automatically, which was the wrong thing to do.

"Oh, really?" She turned bodily towards him, crossing her arms over her chest; her expression transmitted no-bullshit, so Sam sighed. More exasperation than surrender.

"It's me. It's... complicated." He settled for that.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, uncrossing her arms and stepping closer to him; concern took over her face and Sam didn't have it in him to lie to her.

"Not really," he began, looking down into the sink of dishes which awaited to be rinsed off. He needed something to occupy his hands, so he took on the job to do that (even if there were still a couple of tables out there who weren't cleaned).

"It's just... so many things happened during these past few months. Me coming here, then staying the night, then taking a job, then last night happened and I really don't know what is going on with me and if Nick feels the same way about me and..."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Anna interrupted him, putting a hand on his shoulder to pull his attention back to her. "What happened last night?" she asked.

He looked down at her, at the open expression and then he remembered. The blush took over his entire face (or so he felt). "Um..." He didn't even know how to say it.

'I slept with your cousin’? No, that was way too straightforward for Sam's comfort. Besides, Nick made it clear that he wasn't a one night stand. 'Me and Nick... we kind of stumbled into his room and things kind of, maybe degenerated a bit from there’? Yeah, maybe not.

A sharp intake of breath from Anna pulled him out of his half-thought answers. "You two hooked up!"

"What?" Sam's eyes widened, and the blush took on a darker shade. "No, no. Not... um..."

An undignified squeal startled him and he found himself pulled into a tight hug. "I suspected it!" She was clearly pleased about their situation, and Sam was having a hard time comprehending it.

"Um, aren't you... I don't know, mad? At me? For..." He fluttered his hand indecisively.

"What? Me, mad?" She was confused. "Why would I be? I'm happy for you two. I don't care who Nick chooses as his partner as long as they make him happy. He's had one too many hardships in his life. If there's someone who deserves to be happy, it's him. God knows, his part of family has been giving him hell for as long as I know him. This little place proved to be his own little haven." She gestured towards all of the room, a warm smile on her lips.

Sam looked at her in surprise, because that was some information he didn't know about Nick. His tongue was prickling to ask for more, but a big part of him considered them to be sensitive and something that Nick should tell him of his own volition. After all, Sam, too had a past which he'd like to forget, thank you very much. In the end he held his tongue.

"So you're fine with us being… ?" Whatever they were. He wasn’t sure.

"Totally," she grinned, cocking her hips to the side so that they hit him. "Now go and bring me the rest of the dishes. I can't stay here all night." She winked and Sam chuckled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. I've been hit with a strong dose of writer's block, and I wanted to bring about a bit of fluff and moments of quiet in their lives (apart for having a bit of a soft spot for that library of Nick), but I got stuck a couple of paragraphs into the first part of the chapter (since the first draft didn't have that scene) and so... here I am. Laaaate, I know.
> 
> Hopefully it's enough to appease you a bit.


	10. Love didn't make you weak, it made you stronger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote from the book "City of Glass" by Cassandra Clare.
> 
> Chapter warning: talk about a past emotionally abusive relationship. If that triggers you, you can skip it. It's fairly clear where Sam starts to talk about it.

\----

 

_Love didn't make you weak, it made you stronger._

 

\----

 

 

Sam already knew how to move and socialize with the patrons like someone who had that job for years. It did help that most of the regulars were nice people and didn't give him a hard time at all. He was always polite with whomever entered the bar (blonde woman notwithstanding; there was a limit to his niceness, and that was it), even if the occasional drunk threw him an insult or two. He never took them personally.

This time around, Anna stayed with them until the last patron left. The ground floor was eerily quiet, after an evening filled with chatter and clinking glasses.

"Okay, guys," Anna said, adjusting her brown hobo bag on her shoulder, "I'm gonna head out now. You play nice." She winked, smirking.

"Yeah, yeah, the door's where you remember it to be." Nick gestured with his hand, but Sam elbowed him and cleared his throat. "Really now, it's not like you took the pains to search for it at eight o'clock in the morning," he grumbled as he crouched below the counter. Anna gave Sam a puzzled look, but he only smiled in response.

When Nick finally re-emerged, he was holding a box, wrapped in silver paper.

"You bought me a present?" she asked, completely shocked but also on the verge of squealing; the resemblance between a three year old on a Christmas day and her were uncanny.

"It's a present from both me and Nick for you and Jo’s third anniversary," Sam clarified, smiling.

Anna blinked. “How did you-- Nick, you old weasel, you talked about me again.” She narrowed her eyes even as he hands were inching closer to the present.

Nick smirked, not entirely playful. “Sorry to burst your bubble, hobbit, but not everything revolves around you.”

She stilled for a moment and Sam thought she was about to get angry, but then her lips moulded into an amused smirk and Sam was left to wonder why had he been worried when these two teased each other at every opportunity they got.

“You say the sweetest things, darling.” Her tips brushed over the corners of the present.

"Hold up, squirt." Nick pulled back the box, just as Anna was about to take it. "You're not allowed to open it," he said, unable to keep the smile at bay as he extended the hand with the present once again.

Anna was petrified with what looked like pure joy, her eyes darting between Nick's hands and his face. She didn't know what to do, but in the end she just snatched it.

Sam surged forward and covered the box with his hand when she made an attempt to unwrap it. "You have to wait until your anniversary to open it."

She pouted. "But it’s tomorrow," she said like a whiny kid, looking longingly at the silver box, but then her expression cleared and she glanced up at both men. "You're not coming tomorrow to ours."

They both averted their gazes, like guilty people do. She narrowed her eyes. "You're ditching us to have sex on your free weekend?" she asked point blank.

"What?" Sam looked stricken and a nice beet red color painted his cheeks. "No, no... um, it's not like that. I told Nick he could go and spend the day with you guys, since it's something you do every year, but..."

"He refused." She finished Sam's sentence, narrowing her eyes at Nick.

"It's a bit complicated," Nick said by way of explanation.

"Really? How so?" she asked, crossing her arms. The displeasure on her face made Sam feel guiltier than when he forgot to buy his brother apple pie on their last Christmas together.

"I still need to find out," Nick said, glancing at Sam, who wasn't looking at either of them at the moment.

Anna raised an eyebrow, studying her cousin and then her friend. There was something going on that she wasn't aware of, and judging Nick's look, he wasn't privy to whatever was going on either. And that whatever concerned Sam, if his glance towards the young man was any indication. In this case, she usually prodded for answers, but it seemed that lately she got better at controlling that urge.

She sighed. "Okay, I'll let this pass," she told them, uncrossing her arms, "for now. But I expect some explanations. Soon. Jo won't be pleased by this."

"I'm so sorry--" Sam's apology was interrupted by Anna's raised hand.

She looked at both of them and her expression melted into a fond one. "C'mere you big doofus!" she took a step forward and leaned over the counter to hug them; it was a big awkward, but no one seemed to mind it. "I'll see you on Monday." She placed a kiss on their cheeks.

Sam was the one who went with her, because he got used to be the one who locked the door. As soon as she was out and the door secured, he released a sigh of relief.

"So, will you tell me why you refuse to go outside?" When Sam turned around, shoulders tense, Nick was a few steps away from him, arms crossed and expression curious.

"Um..." Sam expressed himself eloquently, passing a hand through his hair and looking sideways, jittery.

"Sam," he said softly, sneaking his arms around the younger man's small back and nuzzling at his neck. "What are you afraid of?" he whispered, kissing him gently.

Sam's hands went to envelop Nick, melting into his embrace. "It's a who," he mumbled into Nick's shoulder.

Nick pulled back slightly to look Sam in the eye. "Sorry. I didn’t catch that."

Sam sighed, as if what he was about to say was hard to get out. "It's not a what, it's a who, a person."

The older man searched Sam's face. "What happened?" he asked, but Sam shook his head and sidestepped Nick to go to the bar, drumming his fingers on the wooden surface. "Sam."

"Nick, I'm sorry, but I really," he took in a shaky breath, distressed, "I can't..."

"Hey." Nick hugged him from behind, resting his chin on Sam's shoulder. "I'm here, Sam. I'll always be here. Whatever it is, I won't judge, you know it."

Sam said nothing. He just took comfort from Nick's closeness, hands entwining with his.

"Okay." He sighed quietly, straightening up and turning to face Nick; he smiled softly at him, caressing his cheek. "I don't promise anything, but I'll try. Just not here."

Nick smiled back and stepped away. "I'll switch off the lights. You go upstairs."

They never really talked about their sleeping arrangements, but since they became more intimate, Sam's been taking permanent residence in Nick's bed. They didn't always do more than kissing and running their hands over each other, because more often than not they were too tired to engage in any strenuous activities. But they did play around every now and then, testing this new development in their relationship.

As Sam stripped down to his boxers, he thought about what he was about to reveal to Nick. A whole chunk of his past he was reluctant to even think about; the reason why he had been running that night, why he found this place -- why he was bleeding.

He tried (and succeeded) to forget everything during these past months, and Nick had been a wonderful factor of distraction so far. But Sam was afraid to lose what he had. The past was never too far behind. Especially not when his past was in the form of a living and breathing person.

He was already under the covers when Nick stepped in. The only light in the room was provided, once again, by the street lamps from outside. He wondered if the bedside lamp functioned or it was there just for aesthetic purposes.

Sam didn't meet Nick's gaze as the man stripped off his clothes and tucked himself in besides Sam. He allowed Nick to entwine their hands above the covers and the kiss that followed on his shoulder.

Nick remained quiet, where he was snuggled close to Sam, and rested his head on the younger man’s chest. For a long time they just lay there in the semi obscurity, hearing each other breathe. He knew, instinctively, that Nick wasn't asleep; just patiently waiting for Sam to start.

"What I'm about to tell you," Sam began, voice quiet and gaze fixed on an invisible point on the wall opposite them, "might... will change how you view me." He swallowed, his hand twitching under Nick's; the nerves were firing up, "But you need to know that I've never, not for a moment since we met, had ill intentions towards you or this place or... anyone, okay?"

Nick didn't answer. He didn't even move. He was still as a rock, but somehow Sam took his non-response as permission to continue.

"I have a brother."

It was easier to speak of Dean and what they had, instead of what brought him to Nick. He took comfort from it.

"He's older than me and he always took care of me when dad went... went on his trips. I grew up admiring my brother. He wasn't... isn't the most ethically correct person alive, but he never once ceased to care about me. He's cocky and quick-tempered, but he means well." Another swallow. "He protects me."

A pause pregnant with words in search of their place.

"I... I betrayed him." Nick breathed evenly on Sam's naked collar, his hand and body anchors for Sam's state of mind. "I went to Stanford right after dad died. Dean was a wreck. He drank day in, day out. We fought... we fought that week more than we fought our entire lives. We threw many hurtful words at each other in our anger. I don't know if he remembers even half of them. He was so drunk that night." He took in a shaky breath, as if to stave off the rising storm of emotions.

Nick was a calm and steady presence besides him. Sam had his eyes closed for a while now, imagining it was just him spilling his past mistakes to the dark room. It was easier that way.

"I packed and took the first bus to California in the middle of the night," he said, voice becoming steady again. "I was going to accept the offer to go to Stanford anyway so why not give the letter in person, right?" The bitter smile bled into his words and he fell quiet for some time.

Talking about his brother proved to be just as hard as recalling the events that led to him coming there.

"He never called me... he never even showed up. I spent the entire year drowning in legal textbooks. On the bright side, I was at the top of my every course. On the not so bright side, I was too prideful to pick up the phone and call my brother. Pride runs deep into the Winchester family."

Nick’s hand twitches into Sam’s, but otherwise the man doesn’t move.

"I took different part-time jobs during that year. On one I met... Brady." The name was spoken almost too quietly for Nick to pick up, but he was close enough to hear it loud and clear (and to pick up on the slight shake between the second and the third letter).

"Soon, I discovered he was gonna be in two of my courses in the second year. We became friends. He was out-going and funny... in his own way." Sam shifted, changing his position.

He set Nick's head under his chin as he turned to face the man, cradling him into his arms. He kissed the crown of blond hair, which in turn was answered with little kisses below and on his Adam’s apple.

"And then, at the beginning of our second year, we kind of got together. I don't remember why and how it happened. Just... one day we were friends and the next we woke up naked and sticky." He grimaced, even if Nick couldn't see him; his face was burning up, but he had to finish, even if he had no desire to relive those memories.

"He changed then. He became extremely possessive and manipulative. He monopolized even the time I allotted to studying. And..." he trailed off, swallowing once again the bundle of guilt and shame that was threatening to suffocate him. "And the worse thing was that I allowed it. I don't know what I was thinking, what stupid reason I gave myself for half a year to let him make decisions in my place. It wasn't fine. I wasn't fine and I knew it.

I failed a lot of exams that year. That managed to give me a good wake up call. I was angry. With myself, with him... but mostly with myself. That wasn't the kind of life I wanted for myself, so I decided to break up with him." A deep sigh. "I told him as much. He made a scene. He asked me to allow us that weekend to finish things off."

He paused again, biting his lower lip. This was the hardest part, the last one. The words wouldn't come out no matter how many times he opened up his mouth to push them out. Nick provided comfort once again by kissing him softly and running his free hand on Sam's back. He wanted to cry. The patience this man had with him would never stop to amaze him. But just as much as things changed with Brady then, they would do the same now, too.

It was the harsh reality Sam was trying to accept. Consequences he would have always faced, no matter the time or situation.

"He wanted to spend the weekend at his cabin in the woods. I refused at first, because I didn't trust him enough already. He insisted. He always had a way with words... Instinctively, I knew it was just him manipulating me, but in the end I relented."

Nick never ceased his soothing movements with his hand, his soft breath ghosted against Sam's neck, offering the smallest hint of comfort, of here and now.

"Instincts…” A note of self-deprecation wormed its way into that word, into the tone with which it had been pronounced. “They always warn you before something bad is about to happen to you. I wanted to break up with him as soon as possible. I was desperate to get rid of him, to return to the student I was in my first year, to rebuild the path I was set to take all along and... maybe reconcile with my brother.

In my desperation, I walked into a trap... knowingly. Yeah, by then I knew Brady well enough to realize when he was saying things just to reach an end." A pause, this time measured in two sets of breaths. "He kept me in that cabin for... weeks, I think." The hand that was entwined with Sam's tightened, the only proof that the turn of his story touched some chords within Nick. Sam still doesn't know what kind, but he was sure he would find out soon enough.

"He... kept me tied up to the bed so I wouldn't escape... or fight back. He drugged me to make me pliant when he used me. He humiliated me and said things... I'd like to forget."

The pressure on his hand increased with each word, but Sam was too deep in his own hellish memories to pay attention to it. Actually, it was a welcome kind of distraction. The pain.

"Just before the shot wore off, when I was between perfectly lucid and high as fuck, he allowed me to move about in the room. Every time, the first thing I did was to go into the bathroom and search for… for razor blades and... cut into my thighs.” He swallowed drily as he remembered their first night together and the lack of judgement in Nick’s eyes. “It was the only solution I could think of and that I was sure it would quiet down the pain inside…”

He moved his legs self-consciously, feeling the raised flesh as it dragged across his other inner thigh and Nick used the motion to push his knee between them in a tangle of limbs. They were closer now, much more than before. Sam relished every second of it, soaking up Nick’s warmth, even though he wasn’t cold.

"It was a temporary relief,” he continued after they settled down, “but one I couldn’t help but find comfort in. During those times I was too weak to do anything but use the bathroom and try to scrub off the... dirt. It clung to me anyway." He took another shaky breath, warm tears wetting the pillow.

The emotional war inside him was completely blown away by Nick’s offer of comfort, of simply being there and listening. He had no possible means to stop the tears. He was no cold man.

"Then... one day, he forgot to dope me. I don't know what happened, some problems at home that distracted him from me or something else, but I remember I woke up and the room wasn't moving funny. My first thought was to escape. And I acted quickly. I had to. I didn't know when he would return, so I picked up my old clothes, discarded in a corner of the room, and grabbed the first thing that I could use as a weapon: the bedside lamp.

He came in about twenty or so minutes later and I was prepared. The fear of failure had time to pump me with enough adrenaline to smash the lamp into his head as soon as he stepped inside and hightail it from there.

That's how... I ended up here," he said. "And that's the reason why I haven't set foot outside since then. He's still out there," he whispered, heart beating a mile a minute.

Nick lifted his head and Sam leaned back a bit, prepared for whatever accuse, ultimatum or anything that would come out of his mouth. He didn't expect Nick to kiss his fears into submission. It wasn't even on his list of 'last things he could think of'. Sam took a bit to overcome his shock, time Nick used to explore his mouth and nip at his lips. He wasn't in a hurry; he kissed Sam as if this was one of the many to come.

But Sam wouldn't have it. Well, he would gladly have it, but it was too easy.

"Wait," Sam placed his hand on Nick's chest, pushing himself further on the pillow, away from those lips that promised so many good things. "What are you doing?"

"Kissing you," Nick replied simply, pushing against Sam's hand to get to his mouth again.

"Yes. No. That's not what I mean," Sam said, keeping the distance more or less intact. "I just told you... all of that and you're not... not angry or disgusted or asking me to be out of your house first thing in the morning?"

Nick sighed, settling for taking the hand that was blocking him to get closer to Sam into both his hands and bringing it to his lips to kiss every knuckle with a tenderness that left Sam speechless and without breath.

"I promised you I wouldn't judge you whatever you would tell me, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but many people say that before finding out truths they don't like."

"I'm not many people," Nick said, kissing softly Sam's pinkie knuckle and then starting again. "But I have to admit, I'd like to do some permanent damage to that sack of shit for what he did to you, even if I loathe physical violence." In the pale light, Nick's eyes were dark and dangerous.

Sam had no doubt that if Brady would have been within one hundred metres, Nick would have made good on his words.

"He's not here," Nick continued, keeping Sam's hand to his lips, although he stopped kissing it. "But you are, and I always spend my time cherishing what I have instead of dwelling on what I could do."

Every suppressed emotion Sam was keeping at bay rose furiously to the surface at Nick's words and tears ran down his cheeks again in rapid succession.

"No, that's not right." He sat up, pulling his hand from Nick's grip and running both on his face. The tears wouldn't stop.

"Why not?" Nick followed him up, bending one knee on the mattress to get closer to Sam.

"You... you're not supposed to be like... this," Sam said as he tried to calm his breath.

"Why not?" Nick asked again, hands hovering mid air, unsure if Sam would allow other physical contact from him. He wanted to comfort the young man every way he knew of, because he was clearly in distress, and because it pained him to see Sam crying because of a manipulative asshole, but he wouldn't do anything without Sam's explicit consent.

"Because you... you're supposed to... to..." Sam looked at him from between his fingers, sobs escaping his mouth uncontrolled.

Sam was crumbling to pieces and he couldn't stand by and watch it happen, no matter how much he wanted to leave the option to Sam. He just couldn't.

He gently took Sam's hands from his face, drying away his cheeks with his thumbs and then gathered him into his arms, offering every last crumb of comfort he had.

"I'm sorry," Sam said between sobs as his hands fisted into Nick's soft t-shirt. "I'm so... sorry."

"Shh. Don't apologize. I'll never, ever judge you Sam. You have my word." Nick whispered in his ear, gently rocking them until Sam calmed down.

The fatigue and emotional exhaustion took over and soon Sam was limp into his arms. He eased both of them back onto the pillows, drying away the last of his tears. Sam repositioned himself so that his head was on Nick's chest and one of his leg was securely slotted between the older man's, much like they’ve been minutes ago. Nick ran his hand in soothing circles along Sam's slightly sweaty spine.

"I love you." The words fell into a mumbled rush from Sam’s lips before he fell asleep and Nick's breath caught in his throat, hand stilling on his back for a few moments, before reluctantly taking their course again.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lines by me.

\----

 

_I asked your eyes, your mouth did not speak,_

_I found no answers, your words grew muted_

 

\----

 

When Nick came to his sense, it was from tendrils of warmth and pleasure curling around his body. His lips quirked up around a 'hmm' as he shifted slightly to make himself more comfortable. One hand slid down to settle on the back of Sam's head.

"I definitely did something worth of a morning blowjob," Nick said, voice vibrating in his chest, still laced with sleep; small, breathy sounds huddled together to escape his mouth as he felt the orgasm pooling in his gut. "I still can't... think of anything..." He trailed off as his hand tightened in Sam's hair, warning him that he was about to shoot his load down his throat, but the younger man wouldn't budge.

After a particular wicked swirl of his tongue, Nick finally lost his control and came, skin singing with pleasure and brain mushy. Sam swallowed up the last drops just as Nick opened his eyes, regaining more control over his body by the second. Sam leaned up, liking his lips as he stared down at Nick. If the older man was ten years younger he would have gladly went for a second round. Sam's blown pupils, flushed cheeks and red, shiny lips would have done wonders to his spent dick.

But as it was, it only managed a half-hearted twitch.

Nick was too sated and lazy to sit up so he motioned for Sam to come down to him.

"Good morning," Sam told him with a sweet smile.

Nick was going to hell. He didn't hesitate once Sam was within a palm's length, pulling him down and kissing the life out of him. He felt the bulge into Sam's boxers as he languidly rocked his hips against Nick's groin, careful to touch as little as possible his sensitive dick.

Nick's hand went to help with the friction, dragging the heel of his palm against the thin layer of fabric of his boxers and relishing the little moans it pulled out of him.

"A bit clishèd," Sam said as Nick nipped and kissed at his jaw and then throat, never once stopping his strokes which made Sam's eyes roll back in his head, "this... morning blowjob. But... I thought... it's a nice thank you gift.”

A particular long moan put a pause in his talking, just as Nick pressed his lips right besides Sam’s Adam apple to feel the resulting vibrations.

"Fuck, it feels so good. And you didn't... kick me out..."

Nick pushed him down on the mattress, following him closely to have more access to Sam's body.

"You're every gift I'll ever need," Nick told him as he kissed Sam down his chest.

Sam barked a startled laugh at the words, hands moving lovingly into Nick's short hair.

"You officially beat my morning blowjob with a clishèd line."

Nick stopped and looked up at Sam with a cocky smirk. "If it reflects the truth, I have no problems showering you in clishès," he stated, a serious note overshadowing the amused smirk.

Sam had time to widen his eyes at his response, before Nick released his cock and went down on it with all the purpose and intention of a man on a mission. He was soon reduced to a moaning mess, hips ceaselessly trying to push forward into Nick's wet, warm mouth, even if the man kept them pinned to the mattress. It was probably the strength Nick possessed and seldom showed that sent Sam spiralling into his own orgasm. He didn't even have time to warn the older man.

Lying in bed, both sated and contended, Sam turned towards Nick, fingers trailing down on his chest and stomach, enjoying the ripples his touch created on the other's skin.

"What are we doing today?" Sam asked lazily, listening to the calm beat of Nick’s heart beneath his ear.

Nick hummed noncommittally, eyes closed and arm cradling Sam's head. "We can stay here until the hunger forces us out or..."

"Or?" Sam propped himself on an elbow to look down at Nick.

Nick opened his eyes and look at him, clear blue eyes boring into his. "Or we could try and go out for lunch."

Sam's surprise was written all over his face at the words, which was followed soon enough by fear and doubt. "I... I don't know... I mean..."

"Hey," Nick said, catching his chin gently between his thumb and index finger before Sam could turn around too far from Nick's reach. He gave Sam no other choice but to make eye contact. "We don't have to, but I'd like it if you tried. Nobody's gonna take you away from me or harm you. Not while I'm with you." Sam actively bit his lower lip, clearly debating his options.

Nick sat up, hand still on Sam's chin. He leaned his forehead against Sam's. "We can always stay here." He kissed his cheek, just a press of lips that ended all too soon. "It's not imperative to go out."

Sam cocked his head to one side and kissed Nick's mouth, hands surging forward to lay on Nick's throat and the other one on his hand.

"I'll do it," he whispered breathlessly when they broke up. Nick searched his face. Sam nodded minutely, answering the concerned question in Nick’s eyes. "I can't stay locked in here forever. It's not living."

\---

"This is a date," Sam stated, looking as if it just dawned on him.

Nick smiled. "It is," he agreed easily.

Sam discovered that Nick had a car, an '81 pickup Chevy Cheyenne. He didn't use it often, the aforementioned man had told him, but surprisingly it was in good conditions. They found a place to eat at about half an hour away from Nick’s bar. A nice, old style bar-restaurant who wasn't crowded.

Sam's eyes narrowed as he looked across the table at his companion. "You're wooing me," he said at length, settling somewhere between an affirmation and a question.

Nick's warm and rich chuckle sent pleasurable shivers down Sam's spine. "I admit I'm trying to mend the rushed beginning of our relationship." Sam took another sip of his white wine to hide his embarrassment, although he was sure his heated cheeks gave him away.

"Believe me, Sam," Nick said as he covered Sam's free hand on the table with his own, gaze trapping his. "If I'd have known you'd come to mean so much to me, I'd have taken things more slowly."

"If I remember correctly, you did gave me the option to wait it out," Sam retorted, settling the glass of wine down. "And I refused."

"True." Nick smiled. "Still, you weren't thinking clearly."

Sam leaned forward, swiftly changing their hands' position so that Sam's was the one covering Nick's. "Both of us weren't thinking clearly at the time. Besides, I'm a consenting adult, Nick. I knew what I was doing. And I did it deliberately."

Nick huffed a fondly exasperated breath, as if he was dealing with a particularly stubborn kid. It might have been the case.

"Okay, I concede your point," he relented as their main course arrived.

\---

The dessert was delicious to say the least. Sam was already having seconds, because it had been a long time since he's had cheesecake like this one. The buttery smashed biscuits melted on his tongue as they clashed with the taste of the cream and wild berry jam. It sang in his mouth, delighting his taste buds like nothing else.

Nick's leg nudging him under the table brought him back. He closed his eyes at some point during his savouring of the desert and he looked down at Nick in genuine puzzlement.

"I take it it's delicious," the man stated, amused smirk firm on his lips.

"Understatement. This is orgasmic!" Sam declared with a straight face taking another bite.

Nick chuckled. "I could see as much."

Sam looked down at his plate for a few moments, debating how he should deal with the teasing remark. When he raised his head, his lips were curved in a tiny, mischievous smirk.

"Jealous?" Sam asked, the teasing more evident in his tone of voice.

Nick grinned but didn't respond. He finished his dessert at a lazy pace. No reason to rush, after all Sam didn’t exaggerate when he said it was orgasmic.

They chat amiably for a little while longer, before the waiter brings them their bill. Since Nick was the one to suggest they go out, he insists to pay for their lunch, even if Sam has enough money from the months he's worked with Nick that he could easily afford to pay.

"You won't make it easy for me to woo you, are you?" Nick asked, a glint of amusement in his eyes, and Sam blushed again. By now he sort of got used to feel his cheeks burn one too many times when he was in the older man's presence.

But the question was enough to shut Sam's protests and they made their way back to the car, hands entwined.

"You know, we could still swing by Anna and Jo's, if you feel like it," Nick suggested subtly, glancing at Sam. "It's an hour and a half from here with the early afternoon traffic. We should be there by five."

Sam looked sideways at him in suspicion. "You're not going to suggest we go to Disneyland next, are you?"

"Oh God, no please!" Nick shuddered and Sam arched an eyebrow questioningly. "Unpleasant memories with my brothers. One brother in particular. Trust me, you don't want to know about it." His gaze turned murderous, in the same way Dean's used to when Sam left crumbs in the Impala. It was a look reserved for close members of one's family.

Sam smiled wistfully at the memory of his brother. It has been so long since he has last seen him, leave alone heard him. The longing was harder to tamper down each day that passed and he didn't contact his brother, but Brady took his phone and he still hasn't made a move to buy a new one. He has never been good with numbers, but Dean's he remembers. Unless he changed it. After all, it's been almost two years.

Maybe he gave up on Sam somewhere along the way.

"Okay, I won't prod for answers," Sam said to distract himself from the path his thoughts took as they climbed into the car.

"So," Nick began, hands on the wheel.

"So?"

"Do you want to go?" He turned his head towards Sam.

Sam studied Nick's expression, the glint of hope in his eyes, and he couldn't quite refuse him, could he now? But he wasn’t going to give up so easily either.

"I don't know." Sam looked contemplatively at the dashboard, acting as if he was giving Nick's proposition serious thought. "It's further still from home and I only agreed to come to lunch. This is so unexpected I'd need a bit of encourage--" The rest of the word was lost into Nick’s mouth as he pulled Sam’s chin in a collision of lips and a bit of teeth.

Sam laughed into the kiss, making it sloppy.

"You do like to make things hard for me," Nick said against his lips, tasting them every now and then.

Sam was grinning like an idiot, enjoying every bit of it. "I'm just giving you incentive to woo me harder," he tells Nick.

"Minx," he murmured, trying for chiding and getting out only fondness.

"Suit yourself." Sam grinned, leaving a teasing peck on Nick's lips. "I believe we have a place to go, right?" He winked, because he was feeling cheeky and Nick shook his head fondly.

"I sometimes wonder why I put up with a pest like you."

"Oh, don't be dramatic," Sam said with amusement and a cocky smirk. "You're head over heels for me," he stated, and the sharp intake of breath followed shortly after. His whole carefree demeanor changed in the blink of an eye, shock filling his features.

Nick watched the whole scene with a morbid curiosity, and he didn't leave Sam time to pull himself together and change the topic.

"I am," he confessed softly, eyes darting to Sam's parted lips, then up to his widened eyes.

Sam's body stilled. This was something he never would have expected coming from Nick. A confession. And not any kind, but one which could break or strengthen their relationship.

Nick didn't wait for Sam to answer, although he wasn’t sure Sam would have been able to answer anything right now. He swerved on the lane towards his cousin's apartment, leaving the heavy silence to stretch and yawn between them. Hopefully, the twenty minutes will be enough for Sam to overcome the shock. Every now and then he stole glances at the young man, but he was looking out of the window, so no chance there to gauge his mood.

He either screwed everything up spectacularly or won the lottery. He silently prayed it was the latter and not the former.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lines by me.

\----

 

_They carved a place where I could not see them._

_They belong to you, but I've made them mine, too._

 

\----

 

He was buzzing with energy when Nick knocked on the door. Their last conversation before coming there was still replaying in his head. Every single word Nick said. Especially the confession. Or was it? He wasn't sure. Nick might have been referring to something else, to...

He was doing a piss poor job at denial. Not even he was convinced by those words.

The surprised look on Anna's face accompanied shortly after by a five thousand watts smile when she opened the door was enough to erase any guilt Sam was feeling.

Nick made to saunter into the apartment as if he owned the place, but Anna blocked his way with practiced ease and pulled him into a hug. Sam watched the two cousins in a rare, tender moment, seeing as the tension bled from Nick's shoulder in a matter of seconds. He took comfort from Anna.

Sam smiled somehow wistfully. It was hard to come by someone who managed to rival that kind of love and affection a close family member could give you.

"If I didn't know you two were related," came a young, female voice from behind and Sam was greeted with a devilish grin, dark, lively eyes and long, blond hair, "you would've found yourself without balls by now."

Sam didn't see Nick's face, from where he was behind him, but he heard the amused smirk pouring into his words as he took a step forward towards the blonde woman.

"Ah, the ever smart mouth on you," Nick said, hugging her, "I didn't know I could miss it this much."

Jo chuckled and punch him in the arm playfully. "You're getting old." Anna sniggered at her girlfriend’s mild jibe. “And lazy. It’s been months since you last came here. Who do I have to thank for throwing your ass out of that den of yours?”

"Not so old as to not secure himself some hot piece of ass whose owner is the reason why he’s here," Anna told her girlfriend and Jo's glinting eyes found Sam's in a split second, the grin widening.

It was uncomfortable to have three pair of eyes directed at him with the intensity of a sun in the middle of the desert, but Jo didn't dwell much, stepping up to him and enveloping him in a hug. He must have looked shocked by the petite woman's gestures, because both Anna and Nick chuckled at him. Slowly, reluctantly, Sam returned the hug.

"And you must be the famous Sam Winchester," she stated with a warm smile as she pulled away and looked up at him.

"Famous? Since when?" Sam chuckled weakly, feeling his cheeks heat up.

Jo's lips parted to reveal a flash of teeth as her smile widened, surely catching on the fluster. "Ah, Anna's hard to shut up when she's enthused about something... or someone." She winked.

Fortunately, they moved inside afterwards, sparing Sam any more overwhelming attention. The apartment was big enough for two people and a couple more friends. The only room that was spacious was the living room, which took over the major part of the apartment, as Jo said. He somehow ended up with her in the kitchen, big enough for three people without becoming crowded. Suddenly, he remembered they hadn't brought anything.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry," Sam apologized, and Jo looked up at him in confusion. "We didn't bring anything. It was a split second decision so we didn't have..."

"Ah, don't sweat it!" Jo fluttered a hand dismissively as she took out different items to prepare something sweet, Sam believe. "We have enough food for all four of us. Besides, you already gave us the present." She winked again, a childish smile lightening up her face.

"Okay, if you say so." Sam admitted defeat, but then lighted up again. “Did you like it? Nick hunted down every photo of you two he could find on his laptop to put them in the memory of the photo frame.”

Jo snorted. “That ancient thing still functioning? I swear he sucks at upgrading his things. I mean, Anna had to nag him a month to buy an electric oven for his own kitchen. He relented only when Anna showed him her burnt fingers.”

Sam smiled. “He finds comfort in things he knows well and don’t require much tinkering from him. Like the cactus.” He grinned and Jo laughed out loud as she mixed the ingredients in a large, lime green bowl with a mixer. “Are you sure you don’t need help?”

"Yes, I am," she smiled at him and turned her attention back to the bowl in her hand. “And thank you for the present,” she said loud enough to be heard over the noise the mixer was making. “There were photos in there that we didn’t have or remembered we took so it’s been a nice surprise.”

Sam was about to say something when he almost jumped one foot into the air as arms enveloped his stomach from behind. He knew almost at the same moment he registered the pull who it was. Still, he wasn't used to this display of affection.

"Having fun?" Nick asked, his chin on Sam's shoulder.

The younger man looked over to Jo who was busying herself with the dough, but it was obvious her attention was mostly on the two of them.

"I tried," Sam said, "but she wouldn't let me. I think she thinks I'm not good around the kitchen." He turned his head towards Nick, trying hard not to smile.

"Now, now, we can't have that," Nick said, tone mockingly affronted. "Sam's a master with the pans and pots. I personally vouch for him."

Jo sniggered. "Damn, you two are so cute." She shook her head in amusement. "But you're biased, Nick," Jo pointed the knife she was using to cut the dark chocolate in bits.

Nick's hands tightened around Sam on instinct, although his expression remained carefree and playful.

"Careful what you point at us, Jo. I wouldn't want to have my boyfriend injured during a supposedly cheerful dinner."

Sam went still, even as his heart started a wild rhythm in his chest. _Boyfriend_. So they're already at that level.

Jo grinned at Nick, but it was more devilish than before. "Oh, I know a thing or two about dinners with your family," she said, turning back to her chocolate. "This is nothing compared to those."

Now that piqued Sam's curiosity. Nick was silent at his side for a couple of seconds, before dislodging himself from Sam. He turned immediately to catch Nick should he flee from the room, because the shift in the air was unmistakable. He wasn't happy to have the memories of his family shoved into his face.

When Sam looked at him, Nick was still smiling, but it was dimmed compared to before. Automatically, a hand went to his elbow, a reassurance. Sam wanted Nick to know that he was there, that he wouldn't leave him alone. It was more than he ever promised to anyone, but he felt the older man needed this reassurance. Nick met Sam's gaze and his smile turned fond, a hand coming up and covering Sam's where it was on Nick's arm. A small nod was enough to tell Sam that he was okay.

They helped Anna prepare the table and then they chatted merrily.

"How are you, guys?" Anna asked Sam when Nick went into the kitchen to help Jo.

Sam put down his glass of apple juice. Small reminder of his brother, even if in liquid form.

"What do you mean?" He tried to feign ignorance.

Anna didn't fall for it. Her smile turned knowing. "You know what I mean."

Sam looked around, slightly uncomfortable by the stare he was receiving from the red haired.

"Um, we're fine, I guess." He shrugged, not knowing what else to say. She clearly wanted to know more.

"And?"

"Anna, stop fishing for details," Nick said, hand on her shoulder and smirking dangerously down at her. "There's a reason why people say it's none of your business."

She scoffed. "Oh, but it is!" she argued as Nick rounded behind her and took a seat besides Sam. "You're my cousin. Of course I worry about you."

Nick didn't budge. "Worrying about me and nosing around in my private life were two different things, last I checked."

Anna crossed her arms, definitely pouting. Sam wasn’t sure what to say to this exchange or if he should even participate. It felt so much like every family's usual banter that he didn't dare disturb the nice feeling of home that settled over him. It reminded him of when he used to argue with Dean over this or that; who put black with whites in the washing machine; whose turn was to wash the dishes; who forgot to leave the water heater on in the bathroom; who was the last one who did the shopping and many others.

He missed his brother and every imperfect moment they had together. How empty and sad he felt to see Nick banter with his cousin just like he used to do with Dean. Gosh, he misses his brother something terrible.

Nick's hand found his under the table and squeezed once, pulling Sam's attention towards the man. He found a small smile and worry on his... yeah, boyfriend's face. Sam squeezed back, conveying to him that he was fine.

"Who upset my girlfriend?" Jo asked as she draped herself protectively over Anna; she was still pouting comically.

Nick lifted a hand, smirking.

"You again?" She narrowed her eyes.

"Guilty."

"No chicken for you tonight," she declared and Sam watched as Nick's face morphed into a scandalized look. "Only _vegetables_ ," she stressed the word as if it was the doom.

"No," Nick said with incredulity.

"Yes." She smiled diabolically. It was a look Sam hoped wouldn't be direct at him -- ever. The promise of hell in there was enough to make anyone think twice about what came out of their mouth.

"You wouldn't dare!" Nick threw out as a last resort. It was so obvious he was having so much fun bantering with his cousin's girlfriend, that Anna discarded his pouting persona in favour of watching this animated exchange.

"Oh, yes I would and I will," Jo promised, arms still crossed over Anna's chest protectively, chin resting on her head. "My house, my rules.”

"I disagree," Nick argues back with energy. "It's Anna's house too."

Jo narrowed her eyes at Nick, knowing she was about to lose this argument. Soon enough, though, her smile returned. "To show you how much I appreciate that silver tongue of yours, I'll ban you from touching any alcoholic drink during your stay here, too."

"What?" Nick was clearly taken by surprise, but he recovered quickly; this was so much fun, Sam thought. A bit like the debates he had at Stanford with different students, only those were more razor-sharp and rough than this. "You're playing dirty now!"

Jo snorts haughtily. "As if using my girlfriend to win an argument is not considered playing dirty."

"Actually, that was an obvious fact. Anna is related to Nick," Sam piped in and all the eyes zeroed in on him in a split second. He swallowed drily. "Okay, no meat and alcohol for me, either," he said subdued and everyone burst out laughing.

"Oh, I like him more and more," Jo declared, wiping a tear from the corner of her eyes.

Nick sneaked a hand over Sam's shoulders, coming close to his face in a sort of hug, only there was a subtle possessive note to it. "I saw him first, so keep to your nosy girlfriend."

"Hey!" Anna said indignantly, but Jo just laughed and kissed her cheek.

Just then a beeping sound called their attention from the kitchen and both women stood up and headed that way, leaving Sam and Nick alone. He was still draped over Sam, Nick's body heat blending with his. He didn't deny that he liked how it felt. How cosy and nice he felt.

"Possessive much?" Sam asked amused, although his cheeks were warmer. Hard to tell if it was because of the room’s temperature or the fact that Nick was so close to him.

Nick hummed noncommittally as he mouthed at his jaw. The way he did it told Sam that he was doing it with a purpose, to get somewhere else. Just as he turned his head an inch, probably on instinct, probably because he knew what Nick wanted, Nick's mouth covered his in a swift motion. Nick's lips tasted of white wine and Sam supposed his tasted like apple juice. Neither was put off by it.

"Guys, guys," Jo interrupted them as she came in with a Pyrex pan in her gloved hands. "I thought you were hungry for food, that's why you came here." She smirked.

Anna chuckled as she put the salad on the table. "They came here to gloat their undying love in front of their family."

It wasn't lost upon Sam the fact that Anna unwittingly included him into their family. It made his breath hitch a bit at the thought of belonging somewhere. Nick squeezed his knee.

"As if you weren't all over each other when you started dating," Nick shot back unflustered, making himself more comfortable in his seat and beside Sam; their chairs were touching, as were their thighs. The waves of warmth coming from Nick were comforting. "I had to make a conscious effort to erase those times you made out in my kitchen. One too many times, actually." Nick went on, relishing the flush spreading over Anna's cheeks. "You won't die if you see some action from my part."

Jo chuckled, shaking her head. "Okay, okay, you win this time. But not on this table, please.”

"Oh, don't worry. I wouldn't willingly waste all this food," Nick said, and his smirk widened a touch before continuing, "your kitchen counter is much more appropriate."

Sam was beet red by now, which triggered peals of laughter around the table. Yeah, how could he have missed being the target for jokes? Though this one he could get behind. He hoped he said as much to Nick when his leg caressed Nick's in a slow, almost sensual way. Nick's hand fell on his knee swiftly, but it wasn’t to stop Sam's movement. Oh, no. Because it looked like the man took Sam’s action the wrong way.

The hand climbed on the inseam of his jeans, searing hot even through the material, and he didn’t have even the faintest doubt of where it was heading. in a moment of blind panic, he covered it with his hand before he managed to touch his crotch.

It wouldn't make for a good memory if he were to moan wantonly at Nick’s cousin's table, would it now?

Nick, the bastard, just smirked knowingly at him, throwing a smoldering glance his way. Oh, they'll have so much fun tonight. It was guaranteed.

They ate and chat merrily until well past eight, when Anna announced that it was time to open up the presents, which confused Sam a bit, but then he thought that maybe they received other presents from people the girls knew and wanted to open them up with Sam and Nick. They move onto the long, bordeaux couch as Jo came in with two boxes and placed them on the coffee table in front of Sam and Nick.

Nick leaned forward and checked the cards attached to each of them. On one, cylinder-like box, wrapped in brown present paper he found his name. The other one was smaller, much smaller than Nick's and was wrapped in a red and silver present paper with Sam's name on it. He placed the latter on Sam's lap, and then unwrapped his present, finding a bottle of Jack Daniels.

“And don’t let it get to your head,” Anna chirped from the love seat, eyes laser focused on Nick. “This is us having faith in you that you won’t manage to drown in that bottle,” she said seriously, eyes glancing at Sam for a moment.

But Sam wasn't making any move.

"You bought me a present?" he asked just as Nick looked back at him.

"Of course," Anna replied, peering curiously at Sam. "Shouldn't we have?"

"No, no... I mean--" He looked down at the present as if something would jump out of it and bite Sam. "This is your anniversary and..."

Anna made a dismissive move with her hand. "Ah, treat it as... an early Christmas present. We just wanted to show you how much we appreciate the work you do at the bar and the fact that you accepted this relic of a man as your boyfriend." She sniggered when Nick shot her a dirty look.

He turned towards Sam and smiled fondly. "Don't worry, I warned Jo to put only inanimate objects in your present." Anna giggled.

"Hey," Jo protested from the love seat. "Gabriel deserved those rats after meddling with my hair products. You should thank me I didn't put snakes in his present." She scoffed.

Nick just smiled as Anna patted her on the back in a mock-affectionate way. "Yeah, he deserves every prank in the world, but it took weeks to find every single one of them. In the meantime they feasted on whatever they found."

At Sam's curious but puzzled look, Anna clarified. "Us three and Gabriel have been banned for coming to any festivities his parents hold... until we learn to behave." She snorted again.

"Um, and how long has this -- punishment been active?" Sam asked.

"How long has it been, Nicky?" Anna asked, clearly amused.

"Hmm, probably three or four years," Nick answered, ignoring the nickname. "I lost count. You know, being the owner of a bar does take up more memory space than keeping up with useless punishments and their span of time."

Sam looked at each of them, studying the relaxed, carefree way they treated the situation. "By the looks of it it doesn't seem like a punishment to me."

Jo snorted and rolled her eyes. "You're lucky you didn't encounter their family," she said. "If I didn't love her as much as I do, I would have been inclined to leave her just for how overbearing and stuck up they are. No offence, Nick."

Nick smirked. "None taken." He glanced at Sam. "They're not pleasant company, unless you're more arrogant than them."

Sam looked down at his still wrapped present without seeing it. He couldn't help but think of his brother and the many holidays they spent together. The meals Dean cooked or overcooked to celebrate the Christmas when they were little, the only holiday they always took the pains to celebrate.

"Sam," Nick nudged his thigh and he looked up in confusion. "I asked if you weren't opening your present. The girls are getting impatient." Instinctively, Sam glanced over to Jo and Anna who both had a twin looks of joy and apprehension on their faces.

He took his present and started unwrapping it. Inside he found a brand new Blackberry Torch 9800, which left him in a state of awe as he stared down at it.

"You like it?" Anna asked, trepidation in her voice. "Nick suggested it, so we thought it would be a nice present. But we couldn’t wait until Christmas so we thought this was as good an opportunity as any other. We would have given it to you sometime next week, if you wouldn’t have come by."

"Y-yeah... I... it's beautiful. Thank you." He released his most brilliant smile at them and both girls squealed in delight.

Nick just kissed his temple softly and whispered, "I love you!" into his ear.

It was so gentle and low, nobody but Sam could have heard it. His head whipped around so quickly he was afraid he'll collide with Nick's face, but he didn't. They looked at each other for a couple of intense moments, Nick waiting and watching as the words slowly sank into Sam.

He already said something like that today, before coming here, but never spelled it out like this. Nick had no qualms telling Sam how he felt, because it was true and Nick wanted Sam to know. Which meant that he chose Sam as his partner for however long Sam wanted him. He was ready to open himself up to this person he only knew for a couple of months. But he was sure he wouldn't regret it. Any of what they passed through.

His eyes darted to Sam's lips, left ajar, a peek of teeth behind. He'd love nothing more than to tarnish those lips once again, to give Sam physical proof of how much he wanted him, how much he adored and loved him. But he knew he wouldn't be able to stop there. And he wasn't into the voyeurism kink. He wanted Sam all to himself, no prying eyes. Which meant that he'd have to wait for them to get home.

 _Then_ , he would devour every inch of gorgeous piece of skin that belonged to his boyfriend. The passion he felt for him was scorching and consuming. It made him feel alive like nothing else ever has.

"You're overwhelmed," Nick stated, still too close to his face.

Sam couldn't keep his smile at bay. "How could I not be?" he asked, voice full of emotion. "The date, the dinner, your cousin and her girlfriend. Then this." He knew his eyes were shiny, but Nick was smiling softly at him and he couldn't care less if he was too sentimental now.

A hand made its way into Nick's short hair at the back of his head, letting their foreheads to touch.

"I never thought I'd be able to find so much happiness," he whispered before kissing Nick.

 


	13. you see beyond dark grey clouds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lines by me.

\----

 

_the frazzled, jagged endings, they keep me suspended,_

_you see beyond dark grey clouds_

 

\----

 

"I love you," Sam said quietly after Nick killed the engine, now in front of the bar.

Nick turned slightly towards him and took Sam’s hand in his own. "I know."

"You do?" Sam met Nick’s calm gaze in surprise. Not that it wasn't obvious with the way he kept making heart eyes to the older man, but still.

Nick just smiled. "You said it to me last night as you fell asleep. I think you weren't even aware of it."

Sam frowned, trying to remember but coming up blank. Nick just pulled him in for another languid kiss, erasing any thought from his mind. Sam sighed and melted into Nick's warm, plump lips, relishing the feeling of his hands as they wormed their way into his hair. When they pulled apart, both breathing heavily, and looked at each other, there was an unspoken agreement going on between them that this was where they wanted to be. This was who they wanted to be with.

But karma always liked to be more of a bitch than usual and almost three months of apple pie life was the farthest she'd allow Sam to be happy.

They made their way on the short path towards the entrance to the bar, hands entwined. Pools of water were peppered along the way, and the air was humid and cool, traces that it had rained that afternoon.

"Oh, will you look at who I stumbled upon?" Sam froze with the keys at the mouth of the lock, even as Nick turned around to look at the person whose voice belonged.

"Who are you?" Nick asked, taking a step forward. Sam didn't want to turn around and look his past in the face. He took such great pains to forget it, to push it back, that a pang of anger shot straight through his spine at the unfairness of it all.  

But Nick didn't know. Or better still, he didn't know how Brady looked like. He wondered for a split second if it'd look too suspiciously close to running away if he were to unlock the door and grab Nick by the arm and lock themselves up inside the bar for ever.

Yeah. No doubt that wouldn't be received well by Nick. He didn’t strike Sam as the kind of person who would run away from his problems, no matter how big or ugly they were.

Turning around it was, then.

"Brady." Was all Sam uttered as he took in the man five steps away in a pair of thick, brown jeans and a dark winter jacket. The tip of his ears were red and his cheeks flushed. He’s been walking for some time.

Nick was as still as a stone on the last stair.

Sam swallowed as Brady smiled like a shark who was about to eat its prey. He forced himself to take the two stairs down and take on the challenge that his ex presented. This was _his_ problem, after all. Nick didn't have to be involved. He stopped a step away from Nick, still too coward to come any closer to Brady. Knowing that Nick was behind him, safe and ready to back him up should there be a need bolstered his courage to at least start speaking.

Nick was oddly silent at his back.

"What are you doing here?" he ushered out, voice strained and eyes never looking straight at his ex.

Brady grinned toothily. "I was just taking a walk and happened to pass by here. Nice place, by the way. Never been to this part of the city," he commented in a light tone as if he talked about the weather. "I think I'll check out this bar when it's open."

"Don't bother." Nick stepped forward, a hand finding Sam's and squeezing in reassurance as it has become his habit. Some tension melted from Sam’s muscles.

Brady studied both of them, gaze settling on their entwined hands like moths attracted to light, even if they were partially obscured by Nick's body, a few inches in front of Sam.

"Oh, I see," he murmured, nodding absentmindedly. Then his eyes returned to Sam. "I'm hurt, Sammy. I thought you were exclusively my bitch."

Sam had to squeeze Nick's hand hard to stop the man from doing something rash.

"I've never been your bitch," Sam spit with disgust; he didn't know who it was directed to.

"Oh, I beg to differ." Brady took a step forward, sharp smile making him appear ominous.

"Not another step,” Nick warned, shadows of a growl catching in his tone. “I suggest you walk away." His voice was commanding and cold; he squeezed back Sam's hand with such force, Sam had a hard time keeping the wince from his expression.

"Or else?" Brady challenged, clearly too ignorant to hear the sharp warning in Nick's voice. He didn't know what the older man was capable of. Neither did Sam, for that matter, but he wouldn't like to find out. Something told him that it wouldn't end well should Nick act upon his unspoken warning.

"Being friends with cops has its advantages." Was all Nick offered.

Brady laughed at this, hands tucked into his pockets as if he wasn’t trying to pick a fight here. "I like your new guard dog, Sammy," he looked straight at Sam with the same grin that made Sam feel sick. "It has a nice bark."

"Nick," Sam whispered just as the man moved a step forward, stopped only by Sam’s arm around his middle. Nick was a mass of tensed muscles, ready to snap -- or snap someone's neck for that matter. His calm, even breathing didn't betray how murderous he felt right now.

"I'm afraid I have things to do tonight," Brady said out loud, all easy smirks and carefree posture, as if he hadn’t been a minute away from being sent to ER. "You know, innocent college boys to use." He winks as he turns to walk up the sidewalk, towards the city. "I'll make sure to pay you a visit, Sammy. We have things to talk about," he promised, already crossing the road on the other side.

Sam sighed in relief as he watched Brady turn a corner. Okay. He was okay. It didn't matter if Brady found him. Now he had someone. A person who he treasured more than he was afraid of his past. Speaking of said person, Nick still hadn't moved an inch from the spot besides Sam.

"Hey. Nick." He tugged at the hand that was still in his, but the man wouldn't budge. "Nick," he called him again, then came to stand before him. What he saw was a closed off, murderous person and not the caring and nice bartender with easy smiles and burning eyes reserved only for Sam.

"Nick," Sam whispered as he caressed his chilled cheek with his free hand, trying to coax the man from whatever ugly head space he was in. He still didn't respond, so Sam dipped his head and touched his lips in a feather-like kiss. "I love you," he told him, looking into his dark eyes.

It seemed to work, because Nick brought his hand to Sam's small back, pulling him in and deepening the kiss. They stayed like that for a couple of minutes, Sam letting Nick taking everything he needed. When they pulled apart, lips red and shiny, both flushed despite the chill in the air, Nick looked apologetic.

"I'm sorry, Sam." He rested his forehead against Sam's. "I don't know what came over me. It's just... the way he talked... it felt like trash was coming out of his mouth. I couldn't stand how he degraded you. You're not like that. You're so much mo--" Sam silenced him with another kiss.

"I know," he assured Nick. "You keep showing me that I'm more than that and I love you for that." He smiled a genuine smile. He didn't know he'd find it so easy to confront Brady and the part of his past he was afraid and ashamed of.

Having Nick besides him and jumping in to protect him did wonders.

They stumbled inside, never once separating for more than a couple of inches. Sam made sure to lock the door behind, the nagging thought of Brady knowing where he lived pushing aside the lust for a few seconds.

"I want you, Sam," Nick whispered against his throat, back against the door as Sam finished locking. He rolled his hips, pulling a groan from both of them when their hardened cocks slid against each other.

"Upstairs." Sam told him, but Nick dragged him down for another kiss.

"Too far," he protested, hands unbuttoning the shirt and jeans. Sam chuckled, his own hands untucking the t-shirt from Nick's jeans.

"We'll make a mess," Sam said.

"I'll clean up."

"We don't have... condoms," Sam argued, breath hitching when Nick's rough hand released his cock from the confines of his jeans and underwear.

Nick just nipped at his throat erratically and then something smooth and square was pressed into his palm. Condom, Sam realized as he looked down at the small, grey plastic wrapping. He chuckled again.

"You planned this," Sam accused him, but it got out more amused than bothered.

"No. I was prepared... just in case," he offered, mouth climbing down his chest, Sam's hands in his hair and on his shoulder.

Deft fingers rolled the condom on Sam and Nick went down on him when he least expected it. He couldn't stop his hips from buckling forward, but Nick's hands settled on his hips and they found a rhythm that wouldn't choke the older man. Sam's left hand came up on the door to support his body, because that nimble tongue of Nick was making him moan and lose control in the most wonderful of ways. But it was when he looked down at Nick's debauched face that he actually tipped over the edge with a ‘ _fuck_ ’ rolled up in a moan.

Nick pulled back with a soft pop and discarded the used condom in the bin besides the door, before he manhandled Sam to the nearest table. Sam was still breathing like he’d run a marathon, but he helped Nick pull down his jeans and boxer briefs. The orgasm loosened him enough to make him feel cheeky, because he received a slap for his efforts of egging Nick on by pushing against the hardness he could feel through Nick’s too many layers of clothes.

“Behave,” Nick warned, even as he bent down and kissed Sam between his Venus dimples like only a lover would.

“Aren’t we having it rough and dirty on a table in your bar?” Sam asked, turning his head around to look at him. Nick leaned up and caught the playful smirk that contrasted beautifully with the lust in Sam’s eyes. “I get to be cheeky.”

“Smartmouth,” he said against Sam’s lips, too softly to come across as anything but loving.

He took care to plunder his lover’s mouth to both their content, moans and half-gasps escaping both of them. They broke up for some much-deserved oxygen after a while and Nick caressed Sam's shiny red lower lip with a soft expression. He was so focused on it, that it came as a surprise when Sam took both fingers into his mouth. The burning lust in Sam's eyes as Nick looked up at him, paired with the obscene sounds he deliberately made as he sucked on Nick's fingers, brutally destroyed every last crumb of patience and self-control Nick had. He dived in to kiss Sam breathless again, because such debauched behaviour deserved punishment.

Sam broke the kiss when Nick circled the tight ring of muscle, before breaching him with the two, wet fingers. Sam gasped, surprise and desire fighting to get across on his face, but as Nick worked him open, both lost their battle to lust. It completely took over Sam’s features, making him close his eyes, mouth falling open.

He was so beautiful like this, soaking up all the pleasure Nick was giving to him like this was what he has been waiting for all his life. Someone to take care of him and watch him flourish in his arms. He kissed Sam’s cheek, following down on his shoulder and added a third finger, thrusting deeper and slower.

"Oh, fuck... shit, Nick," Sam hissed between moans, hands gripping hard at the edges of the table.

"You're so perfect, Sam," Nick whispered into his skin, as if it would have been a sacrilege to say them aloud. "So beautiful and utterly brilliant.”

“Nick,” Sam whined and he wasn’t the least bit embarrassed by it. “Nick get _on_ with it! I want you in me. Fucking me open with such dedication this table will bear the con... _fuck_ ,” he moaned when Nick’s finger grazed that sweet spot inside him. “ _Now_.”

Nick chuckled into his back, moving his free hand to his hip. “Bossy.”

Still, he leaned up and prepared to follow Sam’s words as _ad litteram_ as possible. He smirked at the helpless whine that escaped Sam’s lips when he pulled out his fingers. He opened the second condom he wisely thought of taking with him with his teeth, because one of his hands was partially slippery. He stroked himself twice, smearing the precome over his length, which helped roll the condom easier.

“Are you ready?” Nick asked, the tip of his cock an inch away from Sam’s hole.

“Yesterday,” Sam grumbled, wiggling his ass.

Nick chuckled, shaking his head fondly. He slid in slowly at first, giving Sam time to adjust to him and the feeling of being filled up. It has been a bit since Nick had had the chance or the necessary energy to take someone to bed, so he needed to get used to the feeling, too. It messed up with his tight control, unravelling him at the seams like a house of cards falling apart at the slightest breeze.

 _God_ , but being engulfed by so much warmth and tightness was so overwhelming, he had a hard time getting his breath under control and impede his orgasm. He was ready to come on the spot. That much of an impact Sam had on him.

“Fuck, Sam…” He sounded like he had more to say, but his coherent thought was momentarily impaired by the sensations that were assaulting him.

“Yeah, I'm on board with that,” Sam ushered, breathing erratically. “Any time. Preferably soon.”

They both chuckled, Nick leaning down to place another kiss on Sam’s neck. The first thrust was experimental and it triggered such a delicious moan from Sam that Nick went for a bis -- and another one. Soon, he picked up speed, encouraged by all the sounds Sam was making and the eagerness with which he met Nick’s every thrust.

He came before Sam, but that was probably because Sam had his share of orgasm some time ago. Even with the condom they still made a bit of a mess on the floor.

Nick cleaned up as he promised. He ushered Sam upstairs to get the shower going, because they were nowhere near done for the night.

The table creaked funnily when Nick pulled it back the couple of inches they managed to push it away in their enthusiastic lovemaking. They shared a good laugh in the shower when Nick joined Sam.

 


	14. fire burning on your skin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lines by me.

\----

 

_tell me what you need,_

_so I can leave fire burning on your skin_

 

\----

 

"Do you know what's going on with him?" Anna asked on Monday as she washed the dishes.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out myself," Sam replied, frustrated.

Nick was a walking bundle of tense nerves. A strange thing seeing as they spent the better part of the day before fucking like rabbits and cuddling in the library in between. Then Nick seemed contented, at peace. There was nothing off about him. But now it was clear that something went wrong in between last night and this afternoon. As it was, the patrons shied away from the bar or from Nick's vicinity.

“Hey, Nick.” He came up behind the bar when the last patron took his drink and went to his table.

Nick smiled fondly at him. “Hey, Sam.” For a moment, Sam forgot what he wanted to say. That honey-smooth voice paired with the smile meant trouble for Sam’s coherent thought and speech. He floundered through words, getting out only syllables, partially formed words.

“Are you all right?” he asked, taking a step forward and sneaking an arm around his waist.

Ah, that was what he came there to ask. “I could ask you the same.” Better. That sounded like a correct, fully formed sentence.

Nick frowned. “I am. Why?” He glanced down at Sam’s lips and Sam wanted to kiss him right there and then, but they weren’t alone and he didn’t want to make a show of themselves. Not that the patrons were homophobic. It was a matter of integrity.

“You were acting weird all night. Anna and I got worried.”

The small sigh was drowned by the chatter of the people, but Sam saw the moment Nick’s lips parted and felt the warm breath at the base of his neck.

“It’s about Brady, right?” Sam asked softly, and Nick’s hand tightened on his hip.

“There are a lot of things going on in my mind right now and I’m trying to sort through them,” Nick said instead, smiling tiredly. “Sometimes my mind likes to get clogged by thoughts, which makes it difficult for me to ignore them.” He leaned up and pecked Sam on the lips. “Come on, we still have a couple of hours before we close.”

\---

It's been four days since Brady made his first appearance and neither forgot his promise. Now they were both on tenterhooks, because they didn't know when he was going to show up. Nick couldn't really prohibit him from coming in, unless the man started a fight inside the bar, which was a valid reason to be tense.

But Nick was taking it to a whole new level. More than once, Sam woke up in the middle of the night to Nick’s side of bed empty and cold. He started to have problems with sleeping again. More than once Sam got out of bed and went in search of his lover, always finding him in the library, a book covering his face. Only when Sam came after him did he return to his own bedroom, still tense in the arms of his lover, until Sam applied his fingers and nails on Nick’s scalp. He always melted within five minutes, as if that was all he has been waiting for.

Sam always thought - and had proof of it - that the older man knew how to hide his worries behind the carefully construed persona of a bartender. It was true that he never had to worry about anything other than taking care of supplying the bar and having the money to do that by the end of the month, but Sam still thought that Brady shouldn't have been made into such a big deal.

It wasn’t like he'd come barging in and kidnap Sam again. The shudder courses through his body like a bucket of icy water at the mere thought of that happening and Anna's eagle eyes caught it quickly.

"Are _you_ all right?" she asked, peering up at him. "I never asked you what happened last weekend and in general I never asked you how did you end up here in the first place. You think this is a good time to finally find out the answers to those questions?"

Sam cleared his throat, mind racing in ten different directions at once. "I'm fine and no, right now I'm really not in a good head space to answer your questions, I’m sorry. Suffice to say that my ex showed up four days ago," he offered, eyes boring holes into the kitchen doors, behind which Nick tried to wade through the ocean of plastic niceties.

Surprise flashed on Anna's face. "Well that explains Nick's mood. He's always been protective of what's his," she said, more to herself than to Sam. "It never took much to push him into overprotective mode. Did your ex threaten you?"

Sam shook his head slightly. "Not really. He... _promised_ he'll stop by when the bar will be opened."

Anna clicked her tongue annoyed, then she looked up at Sam and touched his elbow. "The best thing you can do right now is to reassure him as much as possible. He doesn't show it, but he's worried sick that your ex will somehow manage to take you away from him," she told him, expression dead serious.

"I had to give him a good, long lecture about not being so overprotective of me when I first started dating Jo. He cares about you deeply, Sam. Even a blind person can see that. If you care as much about him, please reassure him that you won't be going anywhere. He won't stop otherwise and on top of it scaring the patrons, it's not good for him either."

Sam watched as Anna pleaded him to take care of Nick. He recalled how Nick didn't sleep a wink in the past four days even if they gave each other blowjobs several times since Nick took him on the table. He stayed with Sam in bed, but he knew Nick didn't sleep. It was clear from the bloodshot eyes and the dark circles under them.

"Don't worry," he assured, squeezing her elbow. "I will." And there was resolution in his reply and determination in his features.

\---

"Hey," Sam said, coming up behind him and kissing the side of his throat as big hands wormed their way on Nick's slightly pudgy stomach. It was past two in the morning when they closed the bar and Nick was still a bundle of nerves.

Surprisingly, he was in his own bedroom and not in the library. He always went there when he needed a moment of peace. Sam couldn’t deny that he, too, found solace there. It was their own little haven. A sanctuary where they felt comfortable and at ease, where problems were muted and the cactus was still in the middle of the coffee table.

But right now, Nick was gazing outside the window of his own bedroom, the one that spilled into the street. He thought Nick looked tense from the other side of the room, but he had his proof when he enveloped him in his long, strong arms.

"Will you tell me what's going on with you? You've been tense for a couple of days now. Everybody's worried about you... or scared of you."

Nick sighed, melting into Sam's arms a little bit. "I'm... not fine, I guess," he confessed and Sam bit back a sarcastic retort.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Sam asked when Nick didn't continue.

He turned into his arms to face Sam. "I'm afraid I'm turning into your ex."

"What?" Sam's eyes widened in surprise. "You're not Brady. Not even if you make a transplant of brain!" he said with conviction, righteous fire burning up in his eyes.

Nick heaved out a weak chuckle, nuzzling at Sam's jaw. "No, I'm not him. I know. But..." he sighed, resting his forehead against Sam's cheek, "I'm feeling more... possessive lately. Like I want to keep you all to myself and never let you go. And now with your ex suddenly making an appearance…” He sighed. “I know, logically, that it's not okay, that you have your own life and I shouldn't be so overbearing... I know, but I can't--"

"Hey, it's okay to be possessive..."

"Not like this."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Without bordering on obsessive," he finished. "And I'm not far behind either, you know?" He turned his head and nuzzled Nick's cheek with his nose. Nick looked up at him in surprise. “Or have you forgotten about the blonde incident?”

Nick huffs a tired laugh at the label as fond memories spilled unbidden in his mind. Warmth flooded his system and he found himself relaxing into Sam’s strong arms. He took comfort in them.

"I never felt this strongly for someone before. It never felt _this_ right with anybody." He wasn't sure why he was telling Sam all that, but he felt it was important for the young man to know.

Sam smiled. "I know." He kissed Nick's lips softly. "I feel the same way. You'll never harm me in any way, just as I'd never bring you any harm intentionally. We care too much for each other to allow ourselves that. That's just who we are."

"I don't think I'll be able to hold back my possessiveness," Nick said as he kissed every inch of skin he could reach while he let Sam turn him around and back him up towards their bed.

"Then don't," Sam said, undulating his body to get some friction where he needed it, when Nick fell ungraciously on the bed.

Nick looked up at Sam catching his gaze. "I can be very possessive."

"And I can tell you when it's too much," Sam told him, a hungry look hooding his eyes as he got rid of Nick’s shirt.

"And what makes you think I will stop?" Nick asked, expression between disbelief and amusement. He followed Sam’s action and got the man half naked, too, although he didn’t stop there. He hooked two finger in Sam’s belt loops and unbuttoned his jeans with the other.

"You will," Sam told him against his lips. "You will," he breathed before taking his mouth into a searing kiss.

And Nick would. He was damn sure about it.

They didn't as much get off that night as mapped each other's bodies in the semi-obscurity, reassuring each other that they'd be there for the other for as long as they needed it. They kissed and whispered confessions without restrained or shame. Languid, lazy undulation of body on body, skin on skin, to mark the words as real.

This was who they were. This was what they wanted to be and no one could have ever told them otherwise. It wasn't difficult to choose, when the person who made you feel whole and happy just by being there besides you, loved you with as much intensity as you felt.

It was just a matter of smiling back when your eyes met and unspoken words were reflected in there to show that you cared just as much as your lover.

And then Brady did show up.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lines by me.

\----

 

 _you're safe,_ _  
_

_they've got your back_

 

\----

 

Sam remembered Dean's cell phone number. It was ingrained in his memory since his first year of highschool, when Dean started working as a mechanic at their surrogate father, Bobby. As he looked at his name, settled between Anna and Jo's number in his new cell phone's contact list, he pondered if it wasn't too late to call his brother.

It was never too late to reconnect with one's family, he knew, but he still felt jittery, afraid to punch the call button and put the phone to his ear. He was afraid Dean would have changed his number and the only link Sam could still hope to have that would tie him and his brother once again would turn out to be dead. Yes, the fear was real and his palms got sweaty as he twisted and turned the phone in his hands.

Muscled, familiar arms sneaked into his field of vision as Nick sat down opposite of him at the table.

"I hope your phone is on good behaviour," he said, pulling Sam's attention to him. "I can never trust that smart mouth to not play some pranks just to spite me -- through you."

Sam gave him a weak smile. "No, it's not... the phone is fine. Nothing amiss with it. Just," he sighed and slumped back on his seat, forearms still on the table.

Nick studied him for a couple of seconds, seemingly plucking out whatever was eating Sam from his face only. "Your brother," he stated and Sam nodded miserably.

"I just... I don't know if... if he even still has this number," he confessed, eyes watching the cell phone as it twisted and turned in his hands. "And if he'd want to talk to me after all this time... I mean, he surely nurses a big grudge against me for taking off without his consent."

"Sam," Nick interrupted him gently. "You were an adult when you went away. You were within your rights to make decisions for yourself. It's your life, not your brother's."

"Yeah, but Dean is stubborn and overprotective." Sam bites his lower lip. "He's always took care of me. Always there for me when I needed him. I... I don't know how I should behave, what I should say to him if he does answer my call. It's... it's hard," he finished, meeting Nick's stare with uncertainty.

Nick moved forward, gently prying his cell phone from his hands as Sam watched in dawning horror how Nick punched the call button twice (one for bringing to life the screen). It was already ringing when Nick pressed the device to Sam's ear, all the while wearing a soft, encouraging expression. Sam couldn't muster the anger for the liberty his lover took. For one, because that expression was disarming Sam like nothing else ever did, and for the other, because he had other pressing matter he needed to focus on.

Like the fact that the call connected after the fourth ring.

"Yeah?" The familiar voice flooded his ears and his heart was in his throat, blocking any sound that wanted to escape. He was panicking and Nick just looked fondly amused at him, not offering any kind of help.

This was on him. Only Sam could mend what was broken between him and Dean. And he wished with all his heart to reconnect with the one person that's been a constant in his life since he can remember.

"Who is this?" Dean was becoming irritated and Sam worked his jaw furiously to just _say something goddammit_ before Dean hang up on him.

"Dean," he choked out finally and Nick thought that was his cue to leave, because he stood up. But Sam's hand shot out to grab his wrist without thinking. Pleading eyes found clear blue and Nick sat back down, not taking his hand from where Sam was keeping his fingers laced onto.

They remained like that, hands connected across the table, both looking at each other as if they were conversing without words. At the other end of the line there was only silence for a few moments.

"Sammy," Dean's voice broke somewhere in the middle of his little brother's name, as if the same emotions that were clawing up Sam's throat were doing the same to Dean. "Sammy, are you all right?" So much worry was crammed into that simple question. So much love and care and affection. The home he always found in Dean.

He closed his eyes, tears falling free from the restraining he kept on them. Nick's warm hand covered his own and a shuddered breath was pushed out of Sam's mouth.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm all right," he assured his brother.

"Thank _God_!" he heard his brother sigh in pure relief. "Where are you? What happened? I thought... I thought I won't be able to..." he trailed off, perhaps unsure himself of what he was trying to say. There was so _much_ to say, Sam perfectly understood his brother's incoherency.

"It's a long story, Dean," he began, voice much steadier than before. His brother was _talking_ to him. The relief was clear in his eyes. "Suffice to say that I'm safe. It's a bit of a drive to where I am right now, but if you'd..."

"I'll come," Dean readily interrupted him, an eager note to his voice. "Just give me the address and I'll come. You can tell me everything when I get there."

Sam smiled and gave his brother the details. Dean was a bit reluctant and suspicious when he found out that his brother was at a half a day drive distance, but didn't say anything. He told Sam he'd be there in the early morning and then they hung up.

Nick never once interrupted him, glad to be just a spectator to Sam's changing expressions, from apprehensive and scared to a genuinely happy smile that was reflected in his eyes. He couldn't get enough of that smile. It warmed Nick from the inside out and he treasured the sight of it like a thirsty man treasured a drop of water. He leaned over and kissed Sam, unable to resist temptation much longer.

Neither said anything as they looked at each other. Words were superfluous right now. Sam's joy couldn't have been measured in them even if he tried.

_Dean was coming._

 

_\---_

 

Sam was buzzing with energy, dancing around the tables as he talked and smiled at the patrons, took empty bottles of beers and brought news ones back. Nick kind of missed making eye contact with him across the floor, but he also understood Sam's joy and apprehension. He had a different relationship with his big brother than Nick had with his.

Anna's perfume hit his nose before her hip clashed into his.

"Sam's in an awfully good mood tonight," she commented, both of them looking at Sam as he laughed at something one of the regulars said. Nick smiled too, even if he felt a bit lonely at the moment.

He was happy for Sam, really, but he was also the kind of guy who hardly ever shared what was his. The not-so-far appearance of his big brother sat heavily upon his heart. Even if he managed to squash down the fear that Sam might be inclined to go home with his brother, he couldn't deny that it was still at the back of his mind, like an echo he had no means to silence.

"Yeah," he answered at long last, fixing another shot of tequila for a bearded man at his right.

"Despite his ex loitering around," she added flippantly, but she was watching Nick closely.

Her cousin turned his head slowly to regard her with a calculating gaze.

"He told you?"

"Yeah. He kind of broke down when you were acting out of sorts. He told me his ex paid you a visit on Saturday." Nick nodded and returned to serve another man. "Are you sure you're all right?" she asked, resting a hand on his elbow.

Nick smiled tiredly at her. "Yeah, I'm fine." He paused for a second, eyes darting to Sam. "His brother's coming."

Anna's eyes widened minutely. "Oh," was all she said.

"They had a fallout when Sam decided to go to Stanford and haven't spoken to each other since," Nick told her, cleaning the counter top with a blue rag. "This afternoon he called his brother and it seemed that he's more relieved that Sam's all right than thinking of any grudge he might hold for his younger brother. Which is why he's coming here."

Anna said nothing. Her gaze didn't lessen in it's studying intensity. She knew her cousin a bit too well, and some pieces were clicking into place in her head.

"Okay, I'll call Jo and tell her--"

"No. Don't," Nick stopped her hand from extracting the phone. He stared down at her levelly. "I can handle it, Anna."

She bit her lip, clearly on the verge of arguing. "You know I won't be able to sleep at all if I go home knowing I abandoned you here. You don't even know what kind of person his brother might be. He could come in here with a gun or be an asshole and accuse you--"

"Anna." His calm voice broke through her frenzy and she closed her mouth with a soft click. The smile on his face made her purse her lips in frustration. "I can handle whatever his brother will or will not throw at me."

He had to admit that the frown on her face, made her fearful. "No, you can't, you stupid head!" She punched him in the chest without force. "You'll look unapproachable, cold and calculating, because that’s how you respond to someone who threatens to take what’s yours and then you'll retreat in your room to lick your wounds, when your attitude will inevitably rub his brother the wrong way. I know you! And I don't want to see you in that state ever again! You finally found a person who makes you smile like a smitten fool whenever you look at him. I need to be besides you and punch him in the face if--"

"Who're you gonna punch in the face?" Sam's voice startled Anna. He looked down at her with a sweet smile, and Anna's resolve sort of took a dive down. If this giant's brother was anything like him, then she'd have a hard time exacting revenge for imaginary spiteful words he'd say to her cousin.

"Your brother," Nick said with a straight face and Anna actually stomped onto his foot for good measure.

Apart from a flinch, Nick didn't show signs of pain. Must have been the countless practice he's had in the past with Anna's way of making her irritation known.

"Dean?" Sam asked, surprised. "But... you don't even know him."

Anna sighed and pinched her nose. "Yeah, I know." She glanced at Nick who was looking stoically at Sam. _Stupid, your Michael is showing._ "I'm just preparing a strategy here... for when he'll arrive, since this mummy here is letting things to the chance."

Sam frowned. "Why would you need a strategy for when my brother gets here?"

This time, Nick intervened. "She won't need it. She was about to go home, right?" He looked at her with a pointed look.

Well, she wouldn't be Anna Milton if she didn't put her foot down. No way was she going to be ushered out like a third wheel. "Actually, I'm gonna stay." She glared at her cousin. "I wanna meet your big brother, Sam." She turned a friendly smile to him. "You never said anything about him, so of course I'm curious. Is he a giant like you? Does he have the same kicked puppy expression as you? You know, things like that." She fluttered her hand nonchalantly and Sam laughed.

"Actually, he's shorter than me and doesn't do puppy eyes."

"Ooh, so we're dealing with a macho man."

Sam laughed again. "Not really. He can hold himself pretty well in a fight, true, but he doesn't go in search for them. He's relatively peaceful." He shrugged a bit self-conscious of the attention he was getting from the two cousins.

"Unless it's about his little brother," Nick commented, and Sam locked eyes with him. Nick didn't suppress the swell of warmth that spread in his chest at the contact. He really did miss this.

"Yeah," Sam managed, as if entranced by Nick, just as a new patron entered the bar.

"Sammy?" A gruff voice made the younger man break the eye contact to look over Nick's head and Anna turned around.

"Dean." Nick watched how the most brilliant and beautiful smile spread on Sam's face at the sight of what he assumed was his big brother. Jealousy reared its ugly head out and Nick stomped on it with all he had and made himself turn around and greet Sam's brother.

First of all he was a client, then the brother of his lover. Sam was already on the other side of the counter, engulfing his big brother into a bear hug.

"Well, smite me," Anna breathed out as she obviously stared at Sam's brother. "Isn't he a sight for sore eyes?"

Nick smirked. "Could you please repeat that again? I didn't have my recorder on. Jo will--"

"Never find out I said anything about that walking wet dream or I'll devote my entire life to make yours a living hell," she said with a sharp smile, not looking up at his cousin.

Nick snorted. "As if it isn't already."

"Oh no, you're getting off pretty damn easy here, Nicky." She looked at him, smile still in place. "What with having a giant teddy bear of a man to cuddle at night. You can deny all you want that you're not sleeping better since he warms up your bed. You've been considerably less distant with your patrons lately."

Just as Nick was about to retort, Sam pulled both their attention back to the brothers.

"Nick, Anna, I want you to meet my brother, Dean."

Dean shook Anna's and then Nick's hand with a charming smile. From the corner of his eyes, Nick could see how enchanted Anna was. He spared a moment to thank every god he knew of for the small blessing that Jo wasn't present. He was positive she would have ripped Sam's brother one by now.

"Well, I can't say I've heard much about you, Dean, since ten minutes ago I've found out you were coming." She shot Sam a look, which made him lower his eyes with a guilty smile.

Dean laughed good-naturedly. "Same here, only by half a day."

"Speaking of which," Sam interrupted. "I thought you would be here an hour ago."

Dean smiled sheepishly at his brother. "That's because I've booked myself a room at a motel down the street before coming here."

"You..." Sam stopped, frowning. He was clearly off-put by his brother's decision. "You could have stayed here." He glanced quickly at Nick, because he was obviously trespassing a line there. "If it's not a problem with you, Nick. He could get my room..." he trailed off, realizing what he's just said.

Dean frowned just as Nick was opening his mouth to say that no, it was no problem if Dean stayed there, even if his presence rattled a bit their status quo. Obviously that last part of the sentence would have gone unspoken.

"What do you mean I could get your room? Where are you sleeping then?" Dean asked, looking up at his brother.

Foot in the mouth. It applied so nicely to Sam. Only he went all the way and put the whole leg in his mouth. In some recessed parts of his mind, Nick empathised with him, but he was mostly on high alert because obviously Dean knew nothing about their relationship. He didn't know how he was going to react to that piece of information.

"Um... I..." Sam was trying to think about something to say and save the breaking the news for later, when Dean was settled in and in a good state of mind. Too much information at once tended to make Dean act rashly.

He never would have known that at some point in his life he'd be so glad to see Brady. Not since he understood how poisonous that relationship was. But his ex barged in, making the door slam loudly into the wall and bring upon the entire floor a startled silence. Everyone's attention was on him.

"Sam Winch'ster, been lookin' for ya." He was drunk off his ass. That much was clear from the slurring words and the unsteady balance. But if those somehow escaped one's attention, then the dark brown bottle of liquor in his hand was a glaring indicator.

"Oh, yeah?" Dean took a step forward, already into protective big brother mode. "What's your business with him?"

Sam felt Nick's warm, if tensed presence at his side, followed shortly by Anna flanking him on the opposite.

"Where you blind when you started dating him?" Anna whispered, studying Brady’s dishevelled (in the unsexy, gross way) appearance with apparent distaste.

The sigh was imperceptible, but it was there. "I'm starting to think I was." Nick found his hand and squeezed it, non-verbal reassurance Sam was beyond grateful for.

Unbidden memories spilled forth and the fear found him again, soaking his senses in a light buzz. Only when Nick's thumb started running in circles on the back of his hand, did he realize his jaw and hands were clenched. He made a conscious effort to relax himself.

In the meantime Brady had managed to get dangerously close to Dean. Only a step was separating them. But Brady's eyes were on Sam. The cruel, bordering on psychotic smile instilled the tension in him once again.

"Been patient enough," Brady slurred, placing the bottle on the counter besides him. "Now's time to get your bitch ass here and go back to mine. Have a lot of things I'd like to do to you." Sam's stomach was roiling at the sight of his grin.

Dean's fists were clenched tightly. "You're not taking anyone with you. Better turn 'round and get the hell out of here before I lose my patience," Dean warned.

"You're gonna like it so much, you're gonna beg for more, you slut," he continued as if Dean hadn't said anything to him. But Dean lost it at that moment.

His punch collided with Brady's face, sending him into the high stools next to the bar. Anna gasped, but Sam took a step forward and caught Dean's elbow.

"Dean."

"What did ya call my brother, you fucking piece of shit?" Dean was furious. He didn't even acknowledge Sam's presence.

"Brother?" Brady asked, confused as he was trying to get up again. With his head swimming, it was a difficult task, but no one went to help him. Just as he managed to get to his feet, blood dripping lazily from the split lip, down his chin, leaning heavily on the counter, he started laughing.

"He doesn't know," Brady said as he turned towards them, elbow still on the counter. "He doesn't know what you've been doin' this past year. He doesn't know you've been my little bitch, sucking dick like you were paid to do it.” A full body shudder coursed through Sam at his words. They weren’t entirely true, he did suck Brady off a couple of times when they started seeing each other, but never willingly during his kidnap. “How you couldn't work up the nerve to just call him and ask for his forgiveness, because you were too coward to do that!" He let his head back and laughed like a maniac.

"He certainly doesn't know about the weeks you spent in my cabin. How much you liked it when I took you. How you begged me to take you harder in that tight little ass o' yours. How--" He brought the hand behind his back and quickly pulled out a knife, which made Anna gasp again and take a step back. "--you liked the pain."

Sam swallowed and stepped back, just as Nick did the opposite, putting himself between Sam and Dean and Brady.

"You're politely asked," Nick said, voice hard and level, "to leave this place before I call the cops."

Brady barked a derisive laugh at his words, the hand with the knife moving this and that way much like a cat's tail, only less fluid. "Cops? Again with that lame threat? I let it slide before, but this time I won't leave here without my bitch."

"You either go quietly," Dean warned through clenched teeth.

"Or what?" Brady interrupted mockingly, leaning forward with the knife. It was the wrong thing to do, because Dean striked lightning fast and the knife went flying on the floor. But Brady seemed to have found a moment of clarity through the fog, because he used his precarious balance to swing his fist at Dean.

Dean obviously had good reflexes, because he deflected it easily and Brady came stumbling towards Nick, who caught him and turned him around. He swiftly gathered Brady's hands behind his back and pushed him forcefully on the counter as if he did this countless times before. He kept one hand on his head and the other on his hands, just as blue and red lights flashed through the windows and the opened front door showed two police cars parking outside.

Nick looked back at Sam first, who looked shaken, but mostly stunned, and then at Anna, who had her phone in her hand and a shaky smile on her lips. He nodded at his cousin in silent thanks. Shortly after, four police officers came rushing in and took the matters into their own hands.

Even if Nick made a summary of the events that transpired there, they still took Dean's, Sam's and Anna's depositions, before taking Brady with them. Two of them shook hands with Nick and patted him on the back like old friends would do, before leaving.

"Friends with cops, huh?" Sam asked as he came next to him, feeling better as he knew Brady would be away from him for a long time.

Nick smiled up at his giant boyfriend. "Well it's bound to happen when you serve for a certain period of time." Sam's eyes widened in surprise.

Anna snorted. "Oh, will you look at Mister Modesty here trying to impress his boyfriend with the action he got by controlling the traffic."

Nick scoffed. "That was for a couple of months at the beginning--"

"Boyfriend?!" Dean interrupted and the friendly banter died down to freezing temperatures.

Right. Dean's brother. Still present.

Anna looked mortified by the gaffe she did, but Sam knew there was no going back, so he steeled himself before turning around and facing his brother properly.

"Yeah, Nick and I... we're kind of... in a relationship," Sam said, losing his nerve in the middle of his sentence.

"Kind of?" Dean was going into hysterics. "What the hell is going on here, Sam?"

Nick stepped forward and took Sam's hand into his, squeezing in reassurance. "I think it's better if you start from the beginning."


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lines by me.

\----

 

_before and after, we're here and now,_

_a young love prepared to withstand time itself_

 

\----

 

 

Dean was into his second tall glass of beer, because by the time Sam got to the point where he escaped from Brady's cabin, his brother looked on the verge of going to the police station and beating the bastard into a bloody heap. Anna thought well to fill them all a tall glass of brown beer, which Dean took gratefully.

Nick remained a solid anchor beside him, thigh touching Sam's.

"So let me get this straight," Dean said, placing the half empty glass of beer on the table. "You meet this asshole on one of your summer jobs, become friends, hook up, dive in into a seriously dubious relationship, you want to break up, he asks you to spend a week at his cabin, you walk in the obvious trap knowingly, he drugs and uses you and then by some miracle you escape and end up here." Dean looks at both Sam's guilty, lowered face and at Nick's calm features, eyes meeting him not-quite challengingly.

"Then you start working here and in no time you two hit the mattress." Sam winced at the use of words, but Dean wasn’t going to retreat any. "Did I miss anything?" he asked, tone bordering on sarcastic.

Sam sighed defeated. He knew something like this was coming his way. "No, Dean, you didn't miss anything." His left hand found Nick's, taking reassurance when the older man squeezed back.

"Wait. Since when do you play for the other team?" Dean frowned.

"Ugh... I've always been into guys, Dean," Sam explained.

"But what about Jess? I thought you two had something there. You looked pretty smitten back then."

"Yeah... well, I thought I loved her. And for a few months I actually believed it, but after I got the acceptance letter for Stanford, we realized we couldn't do a long-distance relationship so we broke up."

"But, but..." Dean was having a hard time wrapping his head around his little brother's sudden change of preferences in sexual partners. "Why... how... I mean, you broke up with your chick and then you have an epiphany moment that you like dicks?"

The flush got darker on Sam's face. He shouldn't have expected subtle from his brother. He wasn't sure Dean even knew what subtle meant.

"I told you I always liked guys, Dean," Sam said, passing a hand over his face. "I was just careful to not bring any attention to it. Lawrence is not that big of a city. Neither particularly open-minded to diversity."

Dean assessed both men across the table, trying to read what they were not saying (or if there was something they were not sharing with him), but they looked as genuine as they could get. At least in his brother's case, Dean was sure. It was Nick's expressionless face that bothered him.

Except for that slight pinch when Sam got to the rough part of the story, the man stayed put and impassive, not unlike a stone. It was more than a bit unnerving, because he didn't know what to think about Nick; he didn't even interrupt once. Dean's gaze lingered on him as he took another sip of his brown beer. Nick maintained the eye contact easily, but not challengingly. It baffled and irked Dean in equal measures how this guy could return the stare without coming off as arrogant or provoking.

"I don't know, Sammy," he said at last, shaking his head. "Don't you think you moved on a bit too fast? You barely had time to sort yourself through."

"I know, Dean, but believe me when I tell you that this feels right," Sam countered, glancing at Nick. "It happened gradually. I don't even remember when I started caring this much about him. It was that subtle."

"Dude!" Dean interrupted, grimacing. "Tone down the chick-flick comments."

A smile wobbled its way onto Sam's face. "I'd like it if you accepted him as my boyfriend."

Dean looked at him for a minute, the brothers falling swiftly into a staring match contest. Finally, Dean sighed. "You wouldn't stop seeing him even if I tell you I'm not okay with it."

"But that doesn't mean that Sam would be happy," Nick spoke up for the first time since they sat down at the table. "On the contrary, he cares too much about you and it would break him if you were to disagree with our relationship."

Sam swallowed, heart hammering in his chest. It only took Nick a few sentences to resume everything he wanted to convey to his brother. He was in equal parts humbled and awestruck that his lover understood him so well. They were still fresh in this relationship and didn't know each other well, but each day they learned something new about the other, about what meant to love and be loved -- wholeheartedly.

Warmth was flooding his chest, making his skin tingle at the sensation. His mind was made up. He wouldn't let this man go so easily. The possessiveness he felt found an outlet in their clasped hands. He wasn't sure if Nick understood why Sam was clenching him so hard, he probably thought it was gratefulness for having spoken up for him. It was so much more.

The words were bubbling up to the surface and he was having a hard time keeping them from spilling unbidden from his lips. He wanted to say them so damn much. He wanted to scream, whisper, mumble, growl, and every other way of speaking he could think of, because he knew they were the right thing to say.

Dean sighed for the umpteened time that night. Tiredness clung to him like a loving cloak.

"Okay," he said. "I'm not entirely convinced, but I'm willing to give you a chance." He stood up and Sam and Nick followed suit. Dean's eyes zeroed in on their linked hands. Sam didn't shy away and Nick couldn't care less who saw them being affectionate with one another.

Dean shook his head and muttered something under his breath, but Sam couldn't catch. He went to hug his little brother. It was so damn comforting to feel the other in his arms, to know he was whole and all right. He released a shaky breath.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he told Sam. The younger man nodded, eyes shiny with unshed tears.

"I'll be going too," Anna chirped from behind them, and all three men turned to look at her. She has been so silent during the entire conversation, that they forgot about her presence.

Nick smiled and hugged her, lingering a bit in her embrace. Emotions were running rampant between them. Emotions that couldn't be expressed because no amount of words could encompass their meaning.

They wished each other goodnight and Dean and Anna were out the door in less than five minutes. Sam sighed relieved as he sagged against the locked door. Nick came and encircled his arms around his middle, kissing his neck softly.

"I love you," Sam whispered, eyes closed. His hands came up to Nick's head, pulling it towards Sam. As soon as their noses bumped, Sam opened up his eyes. "I love you so much, I can't find the words to express it properly. My chest feels like it's bursting open with how much--"

His words were swiftly cut off by Nick's fevered lips. The bruising kiss brought no relief to Sam, but Nick was making an effort to sear the shape of his lips onto Sam's. Ragged breaths echoed as they panted, bodies moving along on their own accord. Nick looked deeply into his lover's eyes, conveying everything that he felt for this gorgeous man that stumbled into his bar one night, many months ago.

They made love that night. Slow and sweet, appreciating every inch of skin, reassuring the other with whispered words, throaty moans and deep growls that Nick belonged to Sam and Sam belonged to Nick. They were possessive and gentle with each other. They tattooed they love into their skin in ways only two lovers could.

"I'll never let you go," Nick whispered as they were drifting to sleep. "You're mine to protect and love and care about. Now and forever."

The confession and promise was carried into Sam's dreams as he smiled goofily and kissed his lover's neck softly.

 

\--- Three months later ---

 

Dean chuckled from his perch on the high stool, bottle of beer in hand. "He's such a giant nerd."

"Jerk," Sam retorted absent-mindedly and Jo laughed from where she was sitting beside Dean.

Dean grinned at him, even if his little brother had his nose buried in a myth and legends book Nick bought him as a birthday present. "Bitch."

The man in question came out of the kitchen, smiling like a besotted idiot when his eyes found Sam at a nearby table. He leaned down to take the kiss his lover was offering him, all the while playing with the silver band on Sam’s ring finger that he gave him almost two months ago. A twin ring sat comfortably on Nick’s left hand, the hand that was cupping his jaw. They were officially engaged.

Kisses still felt as if this was the first time he tasted Sam’s lips so he seldom stopped at just a peck. Having an audience never bothered Nick, but Sam still found it a bit uncomfortable to display such affection in public. He seemed to be okay with their family, though.

Dean cat-called them as Jo sniggered. “Careful to not swallow his tongue, Sammy. I won’t be the one to explain it to the doctor.” Jo dissolved into a fit of laughter and even Nick chuckled, breaking their kiss.

Sam sighed, not satisfied with the short kiss. “Tell me again who had the brilliant idea to invite my brother?” He let his forehead touch Nick’s chest as his hands came up to play in his hair.

Nick chuckled. “You love him.”

Sam looked up at him. “I love you, too,” he said without hesitation and Nick beamed at him. A wicked smile took over his expression and added, more loudly, “maybe more than my brother.”

“Hey,” Dean protested. “Bros before hoes.”

"How's my girl doing?" Jo asked Nick, interrupting Dean and Sam’s banter.

"She's just finishing the last touches."

Sam grinned like a child as he returned to his book, knowing that Anna was preparing his cake. Only Nick was allowed in there, because Anna wasn’t someone you could joke around with when she said something. Dean learned that the hard way a couple of months ago, when his promised apple pie didn’t certainly taste like apple.

Nick loved that look of childish joy on his lover’s face. It lighted the entire room.

"Oh, this is interesting. Did you know that the Indian Goddess, Kali, is often shown as standing on the prone, inert body of Shiva the God of Consciousness, her husband?" Sam read from the book, eyes alight with giddiness and wonder. He glanced up at Nick. "She’s so powerful that she could end the world in a fit of rage. Only Shiva’s presence can dull her anger."

Nick snorted. "Sounds like Gabriel's ex."

Sam did a double take, peering curiously at Nick. Nick shook his head. "It's nothing. He always attracted crazy people."

"You know, one of these days you'll have to stop being a walking enigma," Sam said conversationally, but there was a seriousness in his tone. Anna cackled in the kitchen.

It wasn't Sam the first to break the eye contact. Nick looked at the far shelf full of empty bottles of strong alcohol.

"There's nothing worth mentioning about my family," he began, but a cursory glance towards Sam told Nick that he had Sam’s full attention. He sighed. "I'm the second oldest son of a family of three sons. Michael is my eldest brother and Gabriel the youngest. They're complete opposites. Michael takes everything too seriously and Gabriel makes a joke out of everything." A pause. "And then there's me, stuck in the middle. You would expect me to balance things out, but sadly, I was the one who fought with Michael more often than not. Last time we saw each other we had a pretty bad fall out and we haven't spoken since." He shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal.

But the fact that he wasn't making eye contact with Sam spoke volumes about how much of a big deal it actually was.

"How long ago did you stop speaking to each other?" Sam asked gently.

"Six or seven years."

Sam swallowed the lump in his throat, glancing swiftly at Dean, who was looking at them with an indescribable expression. He couldn't imagine going so long without at least trying to rekindle things with his brother. But his relationship with Dean differed by a fair amount of points from that of Nick and his brothers, he learned.

"I'm sorry," Sam said honestly, but Nick just smiled at him.

"I am saddened by how things blew off between us, but I've never cried over spilled milk."

Anna coming out of the kitchen broke their bubble and Sam's eyes widened when he saw what looked like the biggest cake he's ever had in his entire life. It was in the form of a pyramid, surrounded by two brackets, each having one candle. With the one at the top of the pyramid, he had only three candles to blow. Sanctuary was the first thing that came to Sam’s mind when he saw his birthday cake and when he looked up at Anna questioningly, she only winked. Jo and Dean were singing "Happy Birthday" to him, now forming a loose semi-circle around the table Sam was sitting at.

When they stopped, he blew off all the candles and his friends and family applauded and cheered. Anna cut the first piece and gave it to him and then she went on to fill the paper plates for the rest of them.  

Looking around at all the happy faces and the good-natured banter between Dean and Jo, he couldn't help but feel the most lucky person in the world. Nick's arm sneaked onto his shoulders, squeezing once. Sam looked up at him, at the fond smile and love in his eyes and Nick leaned down, knowing already what Sam wanted. What both wanted.

"I love you," Nick whispered against his lips.

"Happy birthday to me, then!" Sam grinned, eyes full of emotions.

The kiss was more chuckles and teeth clashing than anything serious, but that wasn't important.

What mattered was that all the people Sam and Nick loved were gathered around a table, sharing jokes, teasing each other and exuding so much happiness that Sam couldn't help but soak all of it up. He found the person who he intended to spend all his life with.

The joy couldn't be grander.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Done with this one too. Actually, I'm saddened to put an end to this fic. It's special, like all my other fics, but this one was born two days before I had a job interview.
> 
> Which is why I found writing this fic so damn therapeutic. It soothed my nerves and took my mind off the impeding interview. But originally, the fic was created after a particular dream, where I was kidnapped (for sexual purposes, although nothing of the sorts happened in the dream) and this guy's best friend helped me escape. (not to mention that Roberto Benigni made a cameo appearance and his demeanor reminded me of Death from Spn... pffft).
> 
> So now it's clear where I took the kidnapping idea. The rest is details :)
> 
> I finished the first draft in two weeks and a half, something new for me, since I never once went back to edit until I was done laying the entire idea on (digital) paper.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the fic as much as I enjoyed writing it! :)


End file.
